


Solving the Girlfriend Problem

by justonemoreartist



Category: Frozen (2013), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Unrelated, Crossdressing, Drag Queens, F/F, Gender Issues, Internalized Transphobia, Trans Female Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1454665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justonemoreartist/pseuds/justonemoreartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU wherein Anna is tired of not getting any from her girlfriend, and settles upon an interesting plan to change that. It used to be a one-shot, but I've kept adding to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reflection-verse final fic is not coming to me, and apparently when I can’t write one fic I write g!pElsa/Anna. Except this time I dithered away at the beginning like crazy because for some reason I usually have a hard time writing smut unless it’s at least somewhat plausible. Apologies in advance if you were looking for a quickie. The inspiration for this came up on Pandora, so it gets a shoutout here. Also I have proven that once again I can’t name things for shit. Sorry.

Anna was frustrated.

She set her Pandora station to “Thinking Music” and brooded.

She had more than a few things to be thankful for. Nice apartment, cushy 9-5 job, quiet, or at least, respectful neighbors, and of course, Elsa. Sort of. Which was the whole problem, really.

Not that Elsa was a problem: far from it! She was great, really great. Elsa was whipped cream on the tip of her nose that Anna tried to lick away while she pulled back, giggling. Elsa was delicate hands smudged up to the wrist with pencil, little bits of eraser stuck to the fine hairs on her forearms, her fingers drumming against the tabletop as she considered angles and weight distribution and aesthetics all at once, the sketches growing like twisting vines across the paper. Elsa was warm nights filled with drowsy, stupid conversations about nothing at all that would be half-remembered in the morning over eggs and coffee. She was long legs and gorgeous hips and arching eyebrows that could tempt any woman into sin.

And yet here Anna sat, completely sin-free. But hardly by choice. What exactly was the problem?

Okay, so Anna had some idea. The problem had popped up more than once.

“You’ve got your trouble face on.”

Anna threw an arm over the back of her chair and leaned over, yanking one earbud out. “My what?”

Elsa didn’t even look up from her toothpick model. “And now you’ve got your angel face on.”

“Probably because I’m so pure at heart.” Elsa just snickered and put a little glue on the side of a toothpick, pressing it flush against another one. Anna eyed her current creation, a cathedral, estimating it at around ¾ complete. She’d asked her once about why Elsa didn’t just use computer models when examining her blueprints in 3D, and had learned that whereas Elsa had begrudgingly learned to do just that for the sake of her career, she preferred to work with her hands, and this was her playtime. “There’s something about working with the real thing, you know?” she’d said, and then launched into a story about building this enormous tanker ship as a kid out of Legos, and while Anna was sure it had been fascinating she’d spent most of it just watching the way Elsa moved when she spoke, so animated and free, her hands gesturing excitedly whenever she kept shifting in her seat towards Anna. That was their third date, and the third time Anna had ever left a date at her door without so much as a peck on the cheek.

“Very pure. So innocence. Much virginal.”

Anna groaned and shoved the earbud back in, turning around. “Stop that: it wasn’t funny when other people did it, and it’s not funny now.”

“Highway to Hell” began playing. She stuck her tongue out at the screen.

She stared irritably at the Word document, silently willing the words “Anna Lillian, associate reporter” to suddenly begin breeding wildly, filling the page with line upon line of text. Clippy blinked innocently at her. Elsa thought he was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen, but Anna liked having her own little cheerleader when she wrote.

“Anna Lillian, associate reporter, queen of the omelettes, princess of late-night karaoke, and duchess of sexual frustration.” She held her finger over the Delete key until the words disappeared. She probably couldn’t submit that, even if her job _was_ to report the truth. Mr. Weselton would probably laugh for all of five minutes and then fire her ass.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know how to deal with the good ol’ itch: man had already invented the vibrator, thus catapulting civilization into modern times in the sexiest way, and Anna was a modern woman, hear her roar. “Ribs McJibs” had a special place in both her heart _and_ her loins.

But she kinda sorta maybe _really fucking_ wanted to share that lovely feeling with someone. A specific someone. A someone who was currently trying to pull stray hairs out of the side of her mouth with her pinky, pulling a face that was simultaneously cute and hot.

Which, again, was a problem.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” She’d nodded instantly, and Elsa had sighed and wrung her hands together, her shoulders hunched, not meeting her gaze. “I know it’s kind of unorthodox, but then, well…so am I, so…” Anna had grabbed her hands and squeezed them reassuringly. “I am totally, 100% cool with this.”

Her and her stupid fucking mouth.

She’d told herself, at the time, that having Elsa as a girlfriend, to have and to hold until death or opposing football teams do you part, was far, far better than just letting her go, where she would either be snatched up by some other lovestruck fool (Anna was nothing if not completely self-aware) or go join a nunnery. Which was all right for God, but c’mon, Anna was only human; there was no way she could give up wonderful, talented, occasionally snarky, goes to bed with the covers on and gets out with them at the bottom of the bed Elsa.

It wasn’t like she’d really lost anything when Elsa had moved in, either. Yes, the toothpaste got used up more quickly, Anna’s “Fern Gully” DVD had been stuck under Elsa’s drawing table for four months before either realized it was there, and Anna had a sneaking suspicion that her cleverly hidden stache of chocolate was the victim of covert raids, but everything else had been a plus. She now got to wake up beside a warm body, one that didn’t complain at all about drool or bedhead (but did refuse kisses until she’d brushed her teeth) cuddle beside someone as they watched cooking shows, taking a shot at every tablespoon of butter used (Anna had nursed a month-long grudge for Paula Deen after a particularly bad hangover) and hold hands with a gorgeous woman as they walked to the library, where they often split up, Anna picking up books on how to write, how to write good, and how to write well, and Elsa avoiding the LGBT section like the plague, drifting over to the historical fiction when Anna wasn’t looking, as if it was some guilty pleasure. When they were together, though, they tended to pick up soundtracks to musicals: she had fond memories of blasting “Wicked” songs as the two of them lip-synched on top of the coffee table. The poor thing probably wasn’t long for this world, but it’d been worth it.

Vienna Teng was singing about hearing her upstairs neighbors ‘moving furniture around’. If only.

Elsa hadn’t touched her once.

Well, okay, that wasn’t true. Elsa hugged her, caressed her hair, snuggled into her stomach when they crashed on the couch, and kissed her with every inch of her being, which was a lot. She laid her head on Anna’s shoulder when they sat on the balcony and watched the sun sink beneath the tops of the buildings, and Anna knew now to wait until she’d stopped nuzzling before she laid her own head on Elsa’s soft blonde hair. Her hands stroked her cheeks, held her sides, and massaged her shoulders, sending little electric shocks along Anna’s hungry skin.

They just didn’t do anything besides that because Elsa, who wore ankle-length skirts to work, who once called Anna in from the front lines of the gentrification story she’d been pursuing to engage in a deadly battle with a spider, who _actually,_ not ironically, drank tea with her pinky out, who always sat with one pale, shapely thigh crossed over the other, who insisted there was a difference between “verdigris” and “teal”, had a penis and was more than a little sensitive about that fact.

Or maybe she was insensitive? It’d explain some things.

Like how Elsa could talk happily to her parents, spending hours describing her day, and how she was doing in the big city, and how much she missed them and couldn’t wait for Christmas or New Year’s or some other time when they could be together, even though Anna was certain that they still had boxes filled with boy’s clothes that “Elton” had long since grown out of. Or how she had been quietly banned from more than one trans discussion board for talking about how much she wanted to meet and talk to other people with “genetic errors” like hers (“Have you ever heard of Klinefelter’s?”): not that she’d ever have the guts to do the same to a face-to-face group. Elsa could be stunningly blunt, hidden behind a computer screen or text, as confident and focused as her designs were, her pencil drawing dramatic lines without hesitation. Or even how she could put that ugly thing on every day, to keep her equipment snug against her, insisting that while she wasn’t interested in ever mutilating her body (her first warning on TransFriends) there wasn’t any reason she couldn’t appear to be the woman she was at heart. Anna had done a good deal of reading on her condition, and had learned that apparently Elsa a) did not have a micropenis, as was a distinct possibility, b) was the odd one out, in that usually the boys that grew up slender, with wide hips and some breast development, became men with mastectomy scars and poor prospects for facial hair, not women who put their forks down gently when they were done eating, their elegantly manicured nails painted whatever color Elsa decided this month was the girliest.

She wasn’t sure if she would describe it as “overcompensating”. Usually that was applied to men, and since that was a label that Elsa wanted to avoid, Anna tried to be supportive. She knew that Elsa had been confused by Anna’s interest in her, arguing that she couldn’t identify as a lesbian if her lover-to-be didn’t have a vagina. Or rather, she’d said as much tearfully after their fifth date, when Anna had cheekily stolen a kiss in her living room and Elsa had broken down and started crying about how much fun she’d had and what a nice person Anna was and how she hated lying to her. It’d taken a few more weeks for Anna to coax more out of her, and she’d slowly put the pieces together: a sobbing young boy going to his parents, clutching a doll to his thin chest, so much smaller than the other boys but already a head taller, saying that he didn’t want to be Elton anymore; the sudden transfer to a private, all-boys school, where Elton wore navy blue khakis that revealed his skinny legs everyday as the boys bullied and jeered; the hidden women’s fashion magazines under his standard issue bed; the group of old women at the local sewing club that Elton befriended, who grew up in a different time when men were men and women were women, who nodded to him over their bifocals and brought him cookies and sweets and lists of names to choose from, calling him their “little darling” who just needed some room to stretch _her_ wings; the trembling acceptance of her diploma, sent to her home by mail, where she was safe to open it; the strained hugs from her parents as they wished “Elton” goodbye and good luck; the arrival in a big city where she could wear dresses and high heels and no one would point and laugh at “Elton” being a freak; and then to the more recent present, where Anna was drunkenly crooning a lewd song to her while Elsa dragged her to her apartment, depositing her on a scruffy couch and informing her charge that yes, she’d stay, but no, not to “get jiggy with it”, but because Anna’s attempt at loading up on liquid courage should’ve ended about seven beers before. It was either the best one-night stand Anna had ever had or the worst: no sex, but she’d wound up with a girlfriend after all was said and done.

No sex. Again, problem!

It wasn’t like Elsa’s penis didn’t work. Anna had seen ample evidence of that whenever she got up to the sound of her boss on the phone going on about “scoops” and “early bird gets the worm” and “I am your nemesis and you should call me evil names because you know you want to, Anna” or things like that. And since she had a penis Anna figured it was only a matter of time before Elsa would uncross those ungodly hot legs of hers and they would christen every single flat surface of her tiny apartment. She’d taken the batteries out of her vibrator the day Elsa’s boxes had been dropped off, breathless with anticipation.

Elsa didn’t bite.

Okay, fine: she’d wait until masturbation wasn’t enough for her. Anna knew she was a hell of a lot hotter than “Jill”, if Elsa’s appreciative, if furtive, glances indicated, and she figured at some point she’d catch her in the act and then buh-bam! One-way ticket to Sex Town, population: 2.

Elsa didn’t masturbate.

An impossibility just as confusing as a square circle, but she could be flexible. So very flexible.

The yoga mat still sat rolled up and leaning against the corner of her closet. Downward facing dog had not helped her at all, and she couldn’t stand the sight of the useless thing anymore.

She’d even tried for a little phone sex. Just a little bit of meaningless conversation while she stroked herself to arousal, her little sighs and moans slowly growing in volume until even dense as a block of ice Elsa had realized what she was doing.

Elsa had panicked and accidentally set her on speakerphone, an action that had not helped her usual train anxiety. On the other hand, free high fives. Elsa hadn’t found that very funny.

So here they were, or rather, here she was, staring at the hypnotically blinking black line, while Elsa was off in her little corner, probably affixing a tiny flag to the top because “flags are cool, Anna, I don’t have to explain it”. And certain parts of Anna were a little more upset than it was probably okay for them to be. Pandora kicked her into an ad.

“Shut up; I don’t want to buy your stupid shoes,” she groaned, dropping her head to the keyboard and rolling it around belligerently. She picked her head up when her forehead began to hurt, only somewhat amused to see her character count had increased tremendously.

“I’m not sure I can pronounce that; are you writing a story about Iceland’s city life?” Elsa was leaning over her shoulder, her long hair draped over Anna’s hoodie, the hint of chocolate on her breath stealing into the space between them. Anna’s eyes narrowed as she filed that information away for later.

“Yeah, it’s a post-modern take on how the effects of La Nina have been upsetting fishing along Iceland’s coast, disturbing its trading relationship with Australia and forcing them to engage in increasingly radical nationalist town-naming sprees in order to drum up support for a land invasion. It’s gonna be my big break.”

“…Iceland is the one in the Northern Hemisphere.”

“Journalist. Not geographer.” Elsa hmmmed and withdrew. Anna scrubbed her forehead. She swiveled around in her chair and looked at her girlfriend, pulling both earbuds out. “What’re you up to?” Elsa shrugged.

“Nothing, really. Just kinda bored.” Elsa had an annoying habit of finishing work at work, when any modern city dweller knew that worktime was playtime and hometime was also playtime, except it was a little harder for your boss to catch you at home. She hoped. Oh God that was a terrifying thought.

“Hey, did you ever remember to put out the trash?”

She watched, amused, as Elsa’s shoulders slumped guiltily. Wonderful girlfriend, really, but sometimes just a tad forgetful. Never in being attentive to (most of) her needs, but cleaning up used coffee grounds and orange peels? Yeah.

“Ah, no. I guess I’ll go do that, then.”

“Remember,” Anna said, turning back to her computer, “I do the dishes, and you know I hate that.”

“Just for the record,” Elsa called over her shoulder, heading into the kitchen, “we do not actually own, and I quote, ‘8,000 salad plates’.”

“Yeah, well,” Anna grumbled, and squished the earpieces back in, wincing as she caught a few hairs. A new song was already playing. She blinked at the screen, confused for a minute, before comprehension set in, and she had a sudden idea. A sudden crazy, no good, idiotic and just plain silly idea. You know, the best kind.

The garbage bag crinkled as Elsa tied the top in a knot before hefting it with a soft, feminine grunt. Anna slowly peered around the doorframe, eyeing the young woman, particularly her backside, and coughed lightly.

“Yes?”

“Say, um, Elsa. You wouldn’t happen to be free the rest of tonight, would you?”

“Yeah. Did you want to go somewhere?”

“No, just figured we could have a girl’s night in; y’know, tea cozies and gin bottles, that sort of thing.”

Elsa gave her a withering look. “I will not be responsible for your demise at the hands of a man shorter than you.”

Anna threw up her hands in mock exasperation, so of course Elsa just smirked at her. “Oh come on! I already have-” she checked the screen “-seven words-wait seriously?”

Elsa didn’t respond, already out the door. Anna chuckled to herself and rubbed her hands together. Sometimes she was just too good for words.

This plan required a little preparation. For once she was thankful they lived on the 16th floor and the elevator was a clunky, tired old box of bolts. It gave her time to get started. She clicked open a new tab to a time-honored site and began.

 

* * *

 

Elsa punched the button again and leaned back, and the elevator let out an exhausted groan and began to chug upward slowly. This would be right around the time where Anna would crack a joke about the gnomes on bikes sleeping on the job again, and how she was being rude for disturbing their sleep. Anna always called her “sassy”, but there was definitely some spunk in Anna herself, not to mention a huge heaping dose of silliness.

She smoothed a hand over her mouth, noting her upturned lips. Thinking about her girlfriend (sometimes she was still stunned by that fact) had that welcome effect on her. That and other, less pleasant effects.

She looked down at her crossed arms, at the tops of her breasts, visible in the sharp V-neck shirt. Hans had made a disparaging comment about how she’d got it backward; it was “business up front, party in the back”, and not the other way around, when she wore it to work along with a very modest skirt, one she’d swapped for a pair of jeans now. She’d imagined every step of hers that day was over his stupid face and those idiotic sideburns. He was probably right, in a way, but she liked wearing lowcut shirts: she’d claim it was for the confidence booster that being sexy brought, but really it was because she liked the sight of her breasts whenever she glanced down, so soft and feminine. If Anna heard the real reason, she might’ve gone quiet and adopted a patient posture in the way that she always did when Elsa stumbled through another explanation of her mind and how it related to her body, her accepting silence so comforting that Elsa just kept talking. It was nice not to be faced with someone who nodded and jumped in with “so why don’t you get bottom surgery?” at the first hint of her…condition.

It wasn’t like she was afraid of her genitalia, or hated the sight of it, or didn’t like it at all. It just wasn’t a vagina. Which is what true women had, true women like Anna. She’d grown up with it, because that’s what boys are born with, and had been too young to really explore herself before she realized that, for all she loved playing with Legos and Erector sets, she had noticed a difference between her growing body and those of other boys. Other boys were getting taller and broader, and while she was shooting up, her voice remained higher, her limbs like sticks, and her nipples had become puffier and puffier. At the same time, the differences between the girls and the boys, besides their names and the clothes their parents gave them, had begun to show, and Elsa no longer felt like a tomboy: she now had to be a real boy, even as she watched the girls run off, giggling, away from the boys, while Elsa wished she could join them. Maybe her parents didn’t let her grow her hair out, so she couldn’t style it, but she saw them play around with their mother’s and older sister’s makeup kits, saw them bring in old magazines filched from the coffee table, saw them begin to wear jewelry and designer clothes and flirtatious expressions when they looked at the boys, and Elsa _wanted_.

Her parents had done their best, but it wasn’t their fault: she was unfixable. She was the boy who grew up to be a woman, and whereas she was happy in that regard, she couldn’t help but feel there were places where she was lacking. Or packing, as the case may be.

She shifted uncomfortably, her shoulder blades digging into the cool metal at her back. Okay, that might not be totally true either. Her body was entirely her own, it just wasn’t all woman. No one who saw her walking down the street would think twice if she was wearing her cup, but if she took it off they’d stare, oh how they’d stare. She could be free and uninhibited at home with Anna, but not out in public.

She had felt terrible, at first. Anna, poor thing, hadn’t known anything about her besides “holy shit yours are the bessht boobs I’ve ever scheen” before serenading her in the karaoke bar to a Journey-Nickleback-AC/DC medley (she still wasn’t sure how that worked). Elsa had laughed loudly in an uncharacteristic display of mirth, and Anna had winked at her over the microphone in what she probably thought was a smooth way, and that translated into real life as a drool-free seizure, before suddenly transitioning to a warbling, if passionate rendition of “I’ll Cover You”, and Elsa had felt her heart flutter. Screw flowers and romantic walks along the beach: if someone sang to her, her heart was theirs. She’d had an embarrassingly huge crush on Celine Dion for years for that exact reason.

And then came the reveal, where she cried and Anna stared before asking if someone had hurt her and how she was so sorry, she should’ve waited, and the both of them had been trying to calm down the other in what was probably the stupidest conversation of Elsa’s life. It was worth it, though, because when she came out the other side, Anna was there, beaming at her, asking when she planned to move in so she could bug her boss for some free time, and did Elsa prefer coffee or tea in the morning? Elsa, being the rational one, had informed her that coffee was for the morning and tea for the afternoon, and Anna had laughed before shyly asking her if she could kiss her for real this time. Elsa hadn’t wasted a second, just leaned in.

And yet she spent so much time leaning away. Not because she didn’t function (Anna thought she spent her long showers cleaning her hair) or didn’t desire (Elsa had once deliberately spilled a beer all over Anna’s newest catch, a stunningly low-cut blouse and skin-tight black legging combo, because she knew that if Anna had put it on Elsa would be trying to take it off in seconds) or didn’t know how things worked (she’d had sex ed; the wooden dowel goes in the wooden hole, okay?) but because of two big reasons.

She felt guilty and scared.

Guilty that she was something that was neither woman nor man, but some odd combination of both, and yet greedily clung to the term “woman”, even if those chat boards were full of people talking about “bodily autonomy” and “identify as” and “socially designated” genders and how she didn’t have to be afraid to be a woman. Scared because she knew that the instant Anna saw her without her clothes on, she’d come to the sudden realization that hey, that’s right, she was a lesbian, and what on Earth was she _doing_ with Elsa in the first place?

So she hugged, and kissed, and held, and every time things got too carried away she’d invent an excuse to leave, to hide behind whatever lockable door she could find, knowing that Anna was just on the other side, waiting for her quietly, and yet unable to open the door herself.

The elevator doors twanged open, startling her. The sound had been a ding at one point, but she suspected a mouse infestation had changed that years ago.

She stepped out of the car and fished her keys out of her pocket, twirling them around a long finger as she strode down the hallway to their door. She unlocked the door and turned the knob, pushing the heavy door open with some difficulty. She toed her slippers off, leaving them by the front.

“Hey, so I was thinking maybe we could watch…” Her voice trailed off at the sight of Anna sitting dejectedly on her chair, hair out of her braids, one shoulder of her tank top drooping, one hand rubbing her shorts and the other her shoulder, bare foot dragging lightly across the carpet.

“Are you okay?”

Anna gave a heaving sigh and shook her head morosely. She looked at Elsa tiredly.

“I’ve been feeling done in.” Elsa bit her lip and took a step forward.

“I’m sorry; is there something you want to talk about?”

Anna stood, rubbing her arms, as if to ward off a chill.

“I just can’t win.”

Elsa blanched; where had this come from? Her mind flashed back to her earlier thoughts, and she felt her stomach plummet.

“You…Anna, is there…”

Anna looked her dead in the eye. “We’ve only ever kissed before,” she said, and there was something odd about the way she’d said it, almost…melodically?

“…well yes, and I’m sorry about that…”

“I thought there’s no use getting, into heavy petting,” Anna sang, walking forward, her hips swaying, and Elsa stared at her.

“It only leads to trouble and…” She dipped her hand beneath her shorts, cupped herself and rubbed, sighing as her eyes slipped closed, her head tilting back. She opened her eyes and grinned lavisciously. “…seat wetting.”

Elsa’s keys thumped on the floor.

“Now all I want to know,” and now Anna was almost up to her, lifting her eyebrows suggestively, “is how to go,” Elsa drew in a trembling breath as Anna strutted up to her, wrapping her arms around her neck and drawing close, “I’ve tasted you but I want more.”

She leaned in to Elsa’s ear and panted, “More, more, more,” and Elsa had to bite her tongue to keep from repeating her words right back at her.

“I’ll put up no resistance,” she whispered, as she trailed her fingers down Elsa’s chest, tapping at the buttons on her shirt.

“I want to stay the distance.” Now she was dipping her fingers underneath Elsa’s beltline, just a tease, dragging along the edge.

“I’ve got an _itch_ to scratch,” she breathed, which was probably something Elsa should be doing too, as she dug her fingernails into the meat of Elsa’s thigh, dangerously close to another part of her.

“I need assistance.” Anna winked at her and drew back, holding Elsa’s hands (when had she grabbed those?) and drawing her back into the apartment, into the bedroom, towards the bed. She dropped Elsa’s hands, and they fell down against her front, and she flinched when they hit her prominent bulge.

“Toucha toucha touch me,” Anna sang, crawling backward onto the bed, wiggling her shoulders and hips. “I wanna be dirty.” Elsa heard someone make a pained whimper, but it was only the two of them. Anna crooked a finger at her, her nearly bare legs dangling off the side of the bed. “Thrill me, chill me, ful _fill_ me, oh you creature of the night.”

Elsa was suddenly on the bed with her, hovering over her, her arms shaking with strain, but not fatigue. Anna slid her hands over Elsa’s shoulders, to her chest, to the first of her buttons, sucking her lip into her mouth as she slowly popped one open. She was going to have a hard time with the rest of them; Elsa’s breath had returned to her, in heaving form.

“Then if anything grows, while I repose…” At this Anna’s other hand, the little devil, cupped Elsa’s groin, and she gasped, shoving her hips forward, further into Anna’s grasp, and her girlfriend wasted no time in pressing her palm against her erection.

Anna licked her lips. Elsa felt like she was either going to die or cum, and she had a very strong preference for one of them.

“I’ll oil you up and drop you down.” Anna surged upward, nipping at Elsa’s neck briefly, sampling the damp skin, before again panting in her ear, “Down, down, _oh down…”_

“Guck,” Elsa managed in response. Anna chuckled. She gave a squeeze and Elsa ripped her hand from the bed and fumbled frantically with her zipper, trying to ease the pounding pressure. She swore as she realized she’d forgotten the button, but blessed Anna was there with nimble fingers, and suddenly Elsa had that much more room to breathe.

“And that’s just one small-well, _big­-_ fraction…” Anna tilted her head and kissed Elsa’s neck, and Elsa began rolling her hips into Anna’s touch, hissing under her breath. Oh God, she was done for.

“Of the main attraction…” Anna drew her shorts off with one hand, a feat Elsa should probably ask her about as soon as she remembered how to remember anything at all. She brought her hand underneath her underwear, closing her eyes and groaning as she touched herself, and Elsa gave a drawn out whine at the sight. Anna’s fingers, considerably damper, reappeared, and she brought them to Elsa’s lips. This was the best present she’d ever been given. Elsa immediately dipped her head and sucked them into her mouth, her hips jerking forward in response.

“Do you need a friendly hand?” Elsa’s free hand flew to her mouth, holding Anna’s in place so she could suck and nod fiercely at the same time. Her skin felt like it was blistering in the roiling heat in her veins.

“Well that’s good,” Anna purred, “because I need action.”

Her fingers were clean. Elsa turned her head, releasing them and panted, “Oh God, yes, yes please.”

“Well? You know how it goes. Aren’t you going to join me?” She was smiling much too sweetly for someone who was actively driving Elsa insane.

“To-toucha-toucha…oh _fuck_ please just touch me!”

“I am, babe. But you’re not touching me, are you?”

“C-can I?” Anna gave her a look. She looped her arms around Elsa’s shoulders and rolled them over, and suddenly it was Elsa staring up while Anna stared down at her. Her normally teal eyes were almost black. She lowered herself down, and Elsa tried not to scream when the damp spots on their underwear connected. The sound came out of her as a trembling cry, which was the best she could ever hope for.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Anna said, leaning back, but not before grinding down in what was a clear effort to remove every single thought from Elsa’s head, “I’m going to strip, and you’re going to watch, and if you want to do the same well…I wouldn’t mind one damn bit. Okay?”

“Okay,” Elsa whispered. Her body felt like it was frozen except for her penis, which was throbbing in angry need. Anna stepped back off of her, and Elsa quickly came to a sitting position, wondering if this was what it was like to lose a limb, but before she could share this idea with her girlfriend, Anna was smoothing her hands down her tank top and around her pantyline.

Elsa’s mouth was suddenly dry. “I wanna eat you out,” she blurted, and Anna grinned. “I love that idea, but I’m kinda interested in something else right now…” She gently pulled her panties down, revealing a gorgeous patch of trimmed pubic hair and flushed, glistening lips, and Elsa hardly realized what she was doing before her hands were at her chest, popping buttons open in time to the course of Anna’s underwear over her beautiful legs. She didn’t bother waiting to take her shirt off before she opened the clasp on her bra, loving the way Anna’s eyes widened and she stroked a hand through her curls.

“Now the pants.” Elsa obeyed hurriedly, almost cutting herself on the zipper, and the jeans crumpled to the floor.

She’d never been this naked with another person before. It felt simultaneously terrifying and achingly personal.

Anna stepped forward, still wearing her tank top, but Elsa’s eyes were glued to her chest, at how her breasts moved far too uninhibited for her to be wearing a bra.

“Looks like we’re in a Mexican standoff, eh? We’ve both only got one piece left.”

“No,” Elsa choked. “I give.” And then she ripped her underwear off, revealing her naked penis to Anna.

Anna knelt between her legs, and Elsa thought her eyes would fall out of her head. “Y’know,” Anna drawled, “you had an excellent idea just now: mind if I borrow it?”

“…what idea?”

Anna laughed, and kissed the head. Elsa shivered. Oh, that idea. “Yes, yes, please.”

“And what’re the magic words?”

“Toucha…toucha…touch me!” Anna licked up the base of her shaft, from the root to the tip, and Elsa’s hand shot to her hair, fingers sinking into fiery strands, as Anna smirked up at her. “Need something?”

“Yes please oh my God,” got her another slow, toe-curling lick, while “oh oh oh _fuck_ yes” had Anna sucking lightly on the head, fingers curling around the root of her shaft and tugging gently, and at “Anna, A-anna please!” she bent her head and took more into her mouth, tongue and fingers working together like the best team that ever was. Elsa collapsed against the bed and panted.

“You’re brilliant, you’re perfect, you’re amazing…WHY DID YOU STOP?” Her voice cracked on the last word, staring desperately at her girlfriend, who was licking her lips. Anna shrugged.

“Because I thought we could fuck instead.” Elsa’s head fell back.

“Oh. That works too,” she informed the ceiling, breathless. She heard Anna laugh before she straddled her hips. Elsa brought her hands to Anna’s sides, gripping the edge of her top and pulling it over her head. Anna shook her hair back into place, and Elsa laid trembling hands on Anna’s naked breasts. Oh wow. There was a God.

Anna laughed at her, but it was more of a light chuckle than a deep belly laugh; it seemed she was having the same trouble that Elsa was. She palmed Elsa’s breasts like a reflection of her, and when she flicked a thumb over her erect nipples Elsa sucked in a quick breath and rolled them over.

“Please, please, God, can I?” She panted over her, gripping her hips hard, her own hips jerking slightly, so close to Anna’s pussy that if she just thrust forward once…

She grunted at Anna’s sudden grip on the base of her penis. “No.”

“Wha-what? No? _No?_ But, but, I thought, I thought we…”

“You are way too wound up: if I let you go, you’ll blow your load in a second, and I’d really rather you didn’t.”

“I wanna be dirty,” Elsa whined. Her eyes widened. “N-not that you’re dirty! I just…I just mean that-”

“I know what you mean, now shhhhh.” Anna pulled her down, maneuvering her just above her entrance, groaning a little as Elsa’s penis slid over her clitoris, sending a shiver running through her body. She pulled Elsa flush against her, which was _so_ not helping her calm down any, and kissed her.

Elsa thrust her tongue down inside Anna’s mouth desperately, and Anna just kissed back so slowly and tenderly that eventually Elsa did the same, their hands stroking in order to soothe, not excite. Elsa tilted her head, sliding her tongue against Anna’s, their nude bodies marking a sharp departure from kisses of the past, in a good way. She pulled back and smiled sheepishly at Anna.

“Sorry, I…kinda got worked up.” Anna stole a quick kiss, clearly forgiving her. She released Elsa’s erection, which, despite the slow treatment, hadn’t flagged an inch, and nodded down at her mound. “You gonna get dirty?”

“Yes,” Elsa breathed, and guided herself inside Anna, filling her with one swift push.

“Oh shit, oh shit, I-I….oh _shit_.” Anna, glorious Anna, with her cute freckled skin and her dancing eyes and her ringing laugh, Anna was silk and steel and heat all at once all around her, and Elsa felt her legs shake. Anna groaned, mumbling something about “finally”, but Elsa’s heartbeat was roaring in her ears at a sudden realization.

“I-I oh no, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Naw, I got myself ready earlier.” Anna bit her lip and wrapped her arms snugly around Elsa’s back, and winked at her before drawing back and thrusting her hips experimentally. Elsa choked and matched her thrust with a far more forceful thrust of her own, making Anna’s head lean back and her neck arch with a soft sigh. “ _Fuck_ yes.”

Elsa whined and began to move her hips slowly, trying not to go too fast, knowing that as soon as she sped up she’d never be able to stop. Anna let out another sigh.

“Elsa, I love you, you are amazing, but Ribs is bigger; do you want me to feel you tomorrow or what?”

She was going to break that fucking vibrator, but first…

Anna cried out and dug her fingernails into Elsa’s back as Elsa slammed into her, barely pausing a moment before drawing back and slamming into her again.

“Oh YES, just like that, oh fuck!”

“Is this hard enough for you?” Elsa growled.

“So hard, so good, fuck yes, you’re perfect.”

Elsa groaned and dropped her head down for a kiss, which Anna returned instantly, their panting harsh when they parted.

“Touch me, touch me please Elsa, I need it…”

Elsa reached down and pressed her thumb down hard on Anna’s clitoris, causing her to sob and move faster. Oh God she was really going to hurt tomorrow. The thought was thrilling in a dangerous way.

“I knew, I knew, I always wanted to…to touch you, and you to touch me, and _fuck yes_ just like that just like that!”

“You knew,” Elsa cried in reply. “Oh fuck I’ve been dying for you, I just…I was afraid…”

“No, never, no, wh-w-why be afraid; _I love you_.”

Elsa’s eyes widened, her mouth hanging open as she stared down at Anna’s face, full of naked want and desperation and love.

“I’m…I’m gonna…I-I…” Anna pulled her so tight against her own body that Elsa’s breasts slipped against hers, their stomachs sliding over one another.

“Oh God _do it!_ Fill me, just let go, fill me up, _fuck me_ , Elsa!” Elsa was so close to crying she felt her eyelashes dampen. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to hang on for just that extra moment, her muscles straining as she held her own pleasure at bay, waiting, waiting, _waiting_ , for-

Anna screamed as she came.

“You’re beautiful, you’re so beautiful, I love, I love-!” Elsa sobbed, still shoving frantically into her as Anna quaked through her orgasm, utter bliss written on her face.

She dropped her head to Anna’s neck and shuddered, her wordless cry muffled against Anna’s sweat-streaked flesh as she finally released. It was the culmination of months of desire packed inside years of regrets rolled up in dark looks and needy touches and aching denial, and it was perfect.

Anna held her as the tears slid soundlessly down her face, making shushing noises and running her fingers through her hair. After a long moment where Elsa struggled to regain her breath, she slowly rolled over, settling Anna against her chest. Her softening shaft slipped out of her, and both gave a shallow groan, for different reasons.

Anna reached her hand over her chest and grabbed the edge of the blanket, wrapping it around them as best she could, Elsa chuckling at her and helping her tuck it against them. “Well I’m not moving, so I hope you don’t mind half a blanket.”

“Not at all,” Elsa murmured, and rubbed her girlfriend’s back. Anna sighed and laid her head against Elsa’s neck. Elsa swallowed and stared at the ceiling, marshalling her strength.

“Can…we do this again in the future? Not like the near future – I love you dearly, and seriously that was just amazing, but there’s no way I’m moving anywhere for a while – but just…sometimes. Often. A lot.”

“Mmmmhell yeah.”

They lay in silence for some time, Elsa’s fingertips drawing random designs on Anna’s naked back, Anna’s breath starting to whistle through her nose tellingly.

Elsa frowned. She'd just thought of something. "Should I have used a condom?"

"I'm clean, you're clean, we all scream for ice-cream," Anna mumbled into her chest, making a soft purring noise when Elsa's nails scratched her gently. A good point, and between Elsa's hormone use and her endocrine disorder, it wasn't at all likely that they needed birth control. Still, "not likely" wasn't a good idea...

"On the off chance that I'm still fertile, though...?"

"'M on the pill, remember?" Anna yawned, nuzzling into her.

“You’re gay. What for?”

“Periods, mostly. You ever feel like eating a whole cake while you’re nauseous, bloated, and you’ve got cramps like someone’s kicking you in the kidneys?”

“…suddenly I’m glad I have a penis.” She felt Anna’s teeth against her skin as the girl smiled.

“That was kinda the whole point of this, so…”

Elsa tightened her grip around Anna’s waist and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Probably not. But in the meantime I’m pretty damn happy; how about you?”

Elsa laughed, shaking her head. “Great. I’m just great.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still uninspired for other things, so here's a quick one-shot to add to this.

“You know, if you’re interested, I think I’ve got a card of his in my purse I can give you,” Irene offered.

Elsa beamed. “Would you? I mean, yes, I’d love that. Don’t get me wrong: I love my firm, but…I’ve always wanted to work with glass, not stone and brick.”

“Is there that much of a difference, building-wise? Or is it just aesthetics?”

“Oh, night and day!” Elsa gushed. “Actually, that’s something that’s kinda important, because…”

Irene leaned over to the side of the table as Elsa began talking about how different building materials exhibited different properties, including general strength, resistance to pressure, flexibility, and absorption of heat. Irene snagged her large black purse and straightened, dropping it on the little kitchen table, nodding to the increasingly excited girl across from her. Elsa, for all she was describing a large array of technical things, was using small words and gestures in place of jargon, and Irene chuckled as she zipped open her bag. She could see why Anna had fallen for her so quickly. Truth be told, she’d been nervous at the thought of her older daughter moving in with someone she had just barely known, at least at first.

Thankfully, Anna was there to change her mind.

Irene chuckled as she remembered how Anna adamantly defended her choice in girlfriends. “She’s  _amazing_  Mom, oh my God, you have no idea. Smarter than anyone I know – even you, all blasphemy aside – and snarky when she wants to be, and yet she can be so sweet, I can practically feel myself becoming diabetic just standing next to her….oh, um, yeah that’s…kind of an Internet joke, see, it-nevermind. The point is: wowza! And yes yes  _yes_  I know we’ve just met but I really want you to see her if that’s okay? Say it’s okay, please?”

She never could say no, after all.

She frowned at the mess inside her bag and began rifling through the various bulging pockets, pulling out a slew of alcohol wipes, pens of various shapes and colors, some Post-its, a few band-aids with superheroes or cats on them, and several movie ticket stubs before coming upon the card she was looking for. She heard a snicker and looked up. Elsa had trailed off and was now trying to conceal a smile, but her eyes were crinkled at the corners tellingly.

She quirked an eyebrow at the younger woman expectantly.

Elsa giggled into her hands. “That’s just such a mom thing.”

“I prefer to think of it as being prepared,” Irene said dryly, nodding at the pair of sisters in the living room. The two ladies peered in to see the sisters draped, with appalling posture, over either end of the couch. They were tossing a hackysack back and forth as they argued about how “cool” Travolta looked while singing about his dream girl; Leah was fangirling hard, but Anna had yet to be convinced.

“He’s got a car, of course he’s cool! Not like you.” Leah nudged her with a toe.

Her sister clearly disagreed. “My bike is a 10-speed, kid; I am  _dripping_  with coolness.”

Elsa blew out a breath. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that was like, raising them. Anna alone must’ve been a handful. At least you had a bit of a breather between them.” Irene almost chuckled at the delicate way she’d phrased that: a decade wasn’t so much of a breather as an indication of something else, but she wouldn’t give up Leah for the world.

Irene shrugged. “Bernard has informed me that we both must’ve been serial killers in our previous lives to deserve raising those hellhounds.”

Elsa blinked. “…wow. What’d you say to that?”

“I said that I would have killed as many people as necessary to find my way into his heart.”

Elsa gave her a deer-in-headlights look. “That’s…sadistically romantic?”

“Ah, here we are, and here _you_ are.” Irene offered her the card with a flourish that reminded Elsa of a certain someone. She was just murmuring a quiet thanks as she took the card when Irene jumped. She laughed at herself under her breath before pulling her buzzing phone out.

“Hello? Oh, hi honey. Fine; we’re still at Anna and Elsa’s place.”

Elsa leaned around the doorway and drew her hand across her throat in a “zip it” gesture, shushing at the still chattering pair, but Irene tapped her on the shoulder and shook her head. “I’m a mom, remember? This isn’t even on my radar,” she said, holding the phone away from her ear. In the living room Leah called out for Elsa to come give her input: she had decided that Elsa was clearly the smart one and so had spent a majority of the time peppering her with questions while Anna laughed at Elsa’s look of strained patience and startled affection. Elsa meandered into the living room, glancing at the screen, where the car was riding off into the sky.

Upon her arrival to the room, Leah took one look at Elsa, at her conservative skirt and well pressed blouse, and informed her that she “still looked super professional”, and Elsa gave her a tight smile and said that yes, that was true, she did look a little done up. Her smile turned into a real one when Leah said that it meant she and Anna didn't match at all. A tickle-fight to end all tickle-fights had ensued, with Leah making the most of her tiny size to zip around the apartment as Anna charged around after her, her arms raised menacingly.

“So what did you think?” Leah asked as she skidded to a halt, and Elsa blinked rapidly before she recalled the previous conversation. Anna banged into her now stationary sister, the pair of them squabbling as Elsa decided on her response.

Irene’s expression went from attentive to troubled. “…oh shi….takki mushrooms, you’re right. I hadn’t even looked at the time. Leah!”

The girl ignored her mother’s call, too interested in Elsa’s opinion on leather jackets and big hair.

Elsa chuckled. “Well…I’m not really a big fan of black hair-”

“That’s because she likey the redheads.” Anna hissed in Leah’s ear, and her sister rolled her eyes.

“…although my interest in gingers is waning fast,  _Anna_ ,” Elsa said. Glancing at Leah, she added, “Um, Leah, I think your mom was calling you, did you hear her?”

“Yeah. So?”

Elsa was suddenly very glad Anna was on the pill. Leah was a darling, but one she had to love from a distance.

“Up you go, you evil little squirt,” Anna said, lifting her up by the armpits and walking her back to the kitchen as Leah giggled and called Anna a cheating big fat no good sister. She set her down on the tiles as Irene scooped the mess on the table back into her purse.

“Leah! I _just_ call-oh,” Irene said as she turned to face her daughters. Leah looked up at her, the very picture of innocence, and Irene’s lips twitched, and she shook her head. “Look, sweetie,” she said, “I completely forgot about the time, so we’re really going to have to run if we want to catch the earlier train back. You got all your things?”

Leah nodded proudly. “Yup!”

Irene lifted one eyebrow. “…you didn’t even check.”

“Don’t need to.”

“Go check.” She swatted Leah on the butt lightly and the girl waved her hand in exasperation before wandering back into the living room. “And be sure to hurry up about it!” Leah’s speed didn’t change a hair. Elsa opened the door without comment, biting her lip against a grin.

The three women made their way to the elevator doors. Irene demanded that Elsa be sure to follow up on that reference as Elsa thanked her profusely. Anna leaned forward and tapped on the button, then turned and offered her arms to her mother. Irene just shook her head and pinched Anna’s cheek. The girl mimed biting her hand before pulling her into a bear hug. Irene let out an “oof!” and patted Anna’s back, chuckling. She released her daughter and stepped to the side, opening her arms wide.

Elsa hugged Irene and grinned when the woman dropped a kiss on her cheek. Irene pulled back and squeezed Elsa’s hands. Leah barreled between them, sneering at Anna when she leaned around and made a rude gesture behind Irene’s back.

Irene pulled back and smiled. “It was great seeing you two again, and I’m so glad Leah got a chance to meet you honey.”

“Yeah, nice seeing you!” Leah was bouncing on her toes while waving at the pair from inside the car, and Elsa shyly waved back.

“Is three weeks from now still a go?” Irene asked.

Anna saluted her. “It is, Sarge.”

“…right. See you two later; goodbye Elsa.” Elsa grinned and waved again.

The doors clicked as they shut. Anna dropped her head back and groaned. “Ugh, finally!”

“Oh come on, I thought your little sister was cute. Chip off the old block, even.”

“Not what I want to be talking about right now, Elsa.” She pressed her back against the doors, pulling Elsa toward her by her beltloop. “Or, using my mouth for.”

“Your mom is _right_ there.” Elsa’s traitorous hands were already on Anna’s hips. Her girlfriend smirked at her and slung an arm around her neck, drawing her in.

“No, she’s four floors below us. Come on, I have been good all day, I just want to jump your bones at least once, okay?” She dropped a quick, not-even-there kiss on Elsa’s lips and snickered when Elsa made a frustrated noise and repeated the gesture.

“Jump my boner, you mean,” Elsa murmured.

“Oooh, already?” She drummed her fingers against Elsa’s side, enjoying the way it made Elsa shiver and lean in for another kiss. “Aw yeah, Anna, you still got it,” Anna crowed when they parted.

Elsa chuckled against her lips. “You never lost it.”

Twang. Elsa’s eyes widened in dawning horror, and she hurriedly stepped backward.

The elevator doors creaked open as Anna whirled around, revealing an amused Irene with her hands clasped tightly over a squirming Leah’s ears. Elsa briefly imagined melting into the floor. Irene cleared her throat. “Much as I enjoy hearing about your…loving relationship, girls, I was wondering just how to get down.”

“You just…you have to press it twice,” Elsa whispered, feeling more than a little breathless.

“Of course you do. Anyways, see you later,” Irene said, lifting a hand to give them a little finger wave, her lips curled into a smirk. Leah banged on the buttons irritably, but not before giving the pair a breathless “bye guys!” as the doors rumbled closed again.

“Oh chill,” Anna patted Elsa’s cheek, the other woman still too stunned to move. “It’s not like she’s not seen me do worse.”

“Wait, what do you mean worse…?” Elsa asked, feeling at once compelled and wary.

“Remind me to tell you about the time she walked in on me masturbating to Disney princess porn,” Anna said over her shoulder as they made their way back. Elsa gaped at her as Anna pushed open the door, just barely catching it before it closed.

“Are…are you serious?” Elsa said. “Jesus Christ, Anna, that’s sick.” Anna turned around and laughed at her, waiting for her to catch up.

“There are two kinds of people in this world, Elsa,” she said sagely, dragging her by the collar towards the couch, “those who admit to rubbing one out over cartoon characters, and those who lie.”

“Well then I guess I’m a terrible liar,” Elsa murmured, leaning over Anna as she reclined against the cushions, already licking her lips. She leaned down and breathed hotly against Anna’s neck, making her shiver. Tilting her head, she could almost taste Anna’s lips when she paused. She reached for her buzzing phone and spluttered when Anna “hmmphed” and pulled her down for a kiss. Elsa jerked her head back and turned away when Anna moved to chase her, saying, “Hang on, will you?”

She sat up and pulled her phone from her pocket, Anna slowly rising, giving her an exasperated look. “You’re going to answer that now?”

“What if it’s important?” Elsa asked, and hit the button. Anna imagined tossing the object in the microwave and setting it to “nuke”. She growled in frustration.

“Oh, hi Mom, how’s it going?”

“Nooooooooooo why….” Anna collapsed against the cushions.

“No, I’m not busy,” Elsa said, the spitting image of an obedient child with the _worst timing in the world_.

“Yes you are,” Anna answered, and Elsa just shook her head, returning her attention to the phone. “What’s the problem?” Oh God _why_.

“My lack of sex is the problem, Elsa,” Anna hissed. “Tell your mom that.” Elsa covered the phone with her hand and shot her a poisonous glare that did absolutely nothing to deter her. She brought the phone back to her ear as Anna seethed and listened silently for a few moments.

“Oh, okay. Were you making bread? Okay. And what kind of yeast did you use?”

Anna groaned and threw her hands over her eyes. “I am being cock-blocked from across the country by a housewife who has never picked up ‘The Joy of Cooking’; why, Elsa, why?” Her girlfriend ignored her, except to roll her eyes heavenward. Well, it wasn't like she didn't know how to distract people...

She sat up and inched her hand steadily closer to Elsa’s groin and the other girl smacked it lightly. Pouting, Anna flung herself back against the couch cushions. She waited, gnawing on her lip, as Elsa continued to explain to her mother how some types of yeast required sugar to start, but others didn’t, and she could just check online to see what she’d used.

Anna lifted her foot up and dug her toes into Elsa’s ribs. Elsa jerked back, holding her side and frowning at her, but it was hard to take her seriously, seeing as her shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. Anna played innocent for all the time it took for Elsa to let her guard down and then poked her again.

“Ahaha-stop! I thought you were all tickled out….oh no, sorry Mom, it’s just Anna being needy. She’s a stinker.” She listened for a moment, then blinked and cocked her head, saying slowly, “Yeah, I can put you on speaker, hang on.” Anna’s eyes widened, and she waved her arms frantically, shaking her head adamantly, before Elsa placed her phone down on the table and pressed the button.

“...uh, hi, Mrs. Dillon, um, I guess it’s nice to meet you? Well not meet-meet, since you’re way over there, and we’re here, but, uh, yeah. How’s your not-bread coming? I guess it’s not really coming, is it?” Wow, that was a Han Solo trying to bluff his way into an Imperial prison level of stupid. Elsa gave her a “what the hell?” look and Anna shrugged apologetically. It was fine for Elsa to love her parents, but Anna, who had had to pick up the pieces of the person they’d unknowingly shattered, had not been very interested in ever speaking to the in-laws.

The voice sounded a little muted, but still audible. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you, Anna; I’ve heard a good deal about you. I understand you’re a reporter?”

“Junior one, but yeah. Gotta use my art history major somehow, right? Heh. Um.” Anna winced and stopped talking.

Elsa sighed and rubbed her forehead. “So anyways, Mom, about the bread…” The pair of them talked for a while, Elsa shoving Anna away at her insistent “I want to get  _your_ dough to rise, come on”, Anna retaliating with the hackysack, because both she and Leah were very responsible with their things. This was so unfair! Clearly her mom and Elsa’s mom had planned this. Granted, she couldn’t ever see them sitting down to talk about it: after she’d very quietly explained to her mom about what subjects she should give a wide berth to and which ones were okay, Irene’s lips had pulled into a thin line at the fact that Elsa’s childhood was one such subject.

Elsa’s mother gradually wrapped up the conversation, having committed her current cooking experiment to the fire, and her daughter sighed. “I hope that helped? she asked, rubbing her shoulder and shrugging. “I mean, I guess I can’t fix things after it’s been ruined, sorry.”

Her mother made a noise of agreement. “I know, and that’s perfectly fine, honey, I just wasn’t sure if I could make things better. I guess I’d better go and see if I can make something else for dinner.”

“Oh well, too bad. Nice meeting you though, Mrs. Dillon!” Anna chirped. Elsa rolled her eyes at her and flicked her cheek.

“Yes, goodbye Anna, it was very nice to speak to you. And…”

There was a long pause, during which Elsa and Anna exchanged confused looks. Elsa reached out and picked up the phone, intending to see if she’d lost the signal, when it crackled back to life.

“…goodbye, Elsa. I will talk to you later, okay sweetie?”

Elsa couldn’t speak. She stared at the screen stupidly.

Anna glanced at her sharply before gently taking the phone from her limp grip. “Yeah, okay, thanks Mrs. Dillon, goodbye.” She ended the call and replaced the phone on the table. The silence hung like a wet blanket over them, stifling Anna’s short, clipped breaths as she stared into the distance, stunned. She wasn’t sure that had actually just happened, or if it was a figment of her own hopeful imagination.

Elsa choked.

Anna jerked her head up to see Elsa with her hands pressed tightly over her mouth, her back shivering and tears welling in her eyes. Elsa shut her eyes tightly and Anna watched her cautiously, not sure if she wanted to be touched. Hesitantly, she smoothed a hand over Elsa’s shoulder, and Elsa hurriedly gripped it. Anna could feel the tremors in her bones. Her fingertips started to throb: she ignored them completely.

“Hey,” she whispered, and Elsa opened her watery eyes, looking at her, lines drawn across her face, “its okay. That’s…that’s what you’ve been wanting, right?”

Her girlfriend nodded and looked down at her lap, the action sending tears sliding down her face. She let go of her mouth, drawing in shaky breaths that cut through the silence like little slivers that felt like pain, even if Anna knew they weren’t.

“Oh,” Elsa gasped, “oh wow. I didn’t…I didn’t think…” Anna rubbed her back, and Elsa leaned gratefully against her, her tears trickling down Anna’s neck. She hadn’t released her other hand.

Anna nosed her hair, the hairs soft as silk against her. Elsa struggled to breathe, and Anna tugged her closer, rearranging herself around the other woman.

“She used your name.” Anna said quietly. If she said it out loud maybe it’d actually start to feel real.

“Yeah,” Elsa said, more like a short bark than a real word, her breath warm against Anna’s neck. The other girl swallowed. “That…that was pretty cool, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Elsa said again. Her voice still trembled, but Anna heard the laughter in it moments before Elsa started to chuckle, her sides quivering. “That was definitely pretty cool.”

“You know what’s even cooler though, right?”

Elsa made an inquisitive noise, and Anna grinned, blinking quickly. Her eyelashes were wet for some reason.

“I’ll bet your dad’s kicking himself for not being the first to do that.”

Elsa’s chuckle was a lot thicker. “You think so?”

Anna kissed the top of her head, her eyes closing. She pictured a mantelpiece filled with pictures, at one end a couple, then a few baby photos, then a little boy proudly showing the camera his lumpy snowman, a bigger boy holding a baseball bat awkwardly, a lanky, tense teenager in uniform, and more and more photos that ended abruptly, as if the boy had simply died. She imagined an old, wrinkled hand, placing a final picture at the end, one where an older couple stood over a beautiful, confident, seated young woman, their hands gripping her shoulders as the three of them beamed.

“Yes, I do.”


	3. Chapter 3

Elsa was feeling a little overdressed.

By all rights, mid-March should've still been chilly, especially near a large body of water. Anna had said it was a "pond, literally; after you've lived near Lake Ontario, you're just not impressed by tiny little things like this," but to Elsa the water was a wide expanse of murky grey-blue dotted with small patches of green algae. The sun was shining brightly, the birds had already returned, along with the walkers, joggers and kids with dogs and tennis balls and Frisbees, and despite the naked trees and cloudless sky, it felt like just another summer day. If summer came before the spring equinox, of course.

Elsa shrugged out of her jacket, dropping it behind her on the blanket, while Anna rambled about her most recent story, something about tenancy rates in the theatre district. She wasn't really paying close attention but was instead enjoying the sound of Anna's voice. It was a lovely voice, a perfect backdrop to the sights and smells of a slowly wakening world. Sometimes she wished she could just sink down into Anna's voice and let it surround her fully in its warmth, infusing her with its enthusiasm and happiness. Letting Anna talk for hours was a similar experience.

Kristoff let out a huge yawn and shifted uncomfortably beside them. Apparently he didn't care for fresh air. "I don't see why you brought me here; we're going to have to go back in a half hour anyways. I was kinda hoping to catch a nap and just eat on the fly." The news van waited patiently in the nearby parking lot, the pair of fuzzy reindeer keychains dangling from the rearview mirror.

Elsa snorted. "Are you seriously sleepy? It's 1 o'clock. The sun's out: you should be wide awake."

"Didn't get much sleep last night," he muttered, scrubbing his neglected stubble as evidence. Elsa couldn't figure out how he could care so much about being clean shaven and yet not about the mop of hair on his head. Maybe it was a guy thing.

"Wesel-nose will totally write you up if he catches you drooling on any more of his precious equipment." Anna was digging through her backpack, pushing aside a bunch of notebooks, on the hunt for her food. Kristoff glared at the back of her head, crossing his arms petulantly.

"He would, but even if he yells at you, you're still employed. How come you get away with everything?"

Anna leaned back against Elsa's knees and batted her eyes at him. "Who, me?" He rolled his eyes as she took an enormous bite.

Elsa frowned at her. "Hey wait, that's _my_ sandwich…"

Anna stuck her tongue out at her girlfriend. It was already covered in peanut butter and fluffernutter. She jerked away when Elsa tried to rescue her food. "Nope, too late, I won it!" she probably tried to say, but it sounded more like "Npppppttthhhhhh". Oh well. Elsa understood.

"Too late," Kristoff said, "she's got her icky girl-germs on it."

"I have girl-germs, too," Elsa said defensively.

"You're too clean to have germs," Kristoff said. She chuckled and shook her head as Anna swallowed and made a noise that sounded like it hurt before choking out "too big" and hurriedly reaching for her water bottle. She took a couple of swigs, sucking in breaths in between each, leaning away whenever Elsa tried to grab her lunch, giggling at the other woman's expression, which was shifting rapidly from annoyance to amusement.

Anna gasped and pointed at the group of ducklings that had converged on the tree roots nearby. "Oh my goodness, they're so cute! Elsa, can we keep one?"

Elsa shrugged. "Sure, if you can catch it."

Anna turned her torso around, giving her a look. "Elsa, how am I going to catch a duck?"

"I don't know: you're the one who wanted to."

"What, do I just sit down and go 'hey there, little ducky, you're so fine' and it'll just hop right into my hands?"

"…are you channeling Ernie from Sesame Street?"

Kristoff cleared his throat. Neither woman noticed.

"I wish," Anna said. "That's kinda one of my life's goals, to be reincarnated as a Muppet."

Her girlfriend frowned at the notion. "You want to come back as a flimsy puppet with a person's hand up your ass?"

"No, I said a Muppet, not a politician."

Kristoff discreetly began pointing down at Anna's feet, but Anna was too busy snickering at her own joke to notice. Elsa huffed.

"Oh har har. What a funny joke. See how much I'm laughing?"

"It's nice you've found someone to vote for come next November, but some of us can't figure out which candidate to choose unless we've got a quarter, y'know what I mean?" Anna responded with a wink.

"Excuse me for actually possessing a civic mind."

"You're excused."

"You're lucky that I find you charming, in a bizarre way."

"I think what you're trying to say is-"

The duck struck.

Anna yelped at the sudden attack, jerking her head down at the little yellow puffball, which grabbed the second half of her sandwich and motored off before she could even move. She gaped after it, at a loss for words, as Elsa's knees started to shake. "Wha-? Are you serious?" The sneaky little thief was almost to the water. She shot to her feet just as the first of Elsa's suppressed giggles snuck out.

"You-you, get back here with that, you foul son of a duck!" She sprinted after the little bird, cutting it off, and it squawked, dropping the sandwich in the dirt and bolting away towards the roots of a large tree as Anna ran after it, cursing its parentage, its species, and its stupidly cute little body for moving so damn fast and oh shit ouch this ground is hard my knees hurt and you get _back here you little…_

Elsa and Kristoff didn't see how the rest of the chase turned out; they were too busy laughing.

* * *

ERROR: CHECK TRAY.

She yanked open the tray and did not, to her credit, immediately scream upon finding it completely empty. She straightened and pressed the start button again.

ERROR: CHECK TRAY.

"I _have_ checked the tray, and it's clear, so will you just be nice to me for once?" She punched the button.

ERROR: CHECK TRAY.

Elsa briefly imagined the copier falling forty stories to its death. Her mental image may or may not have included an explosion that would make Michael Bay sigh with pleasure. A pity her office was only on the 26th floor.

"There you are, Ms. Dillon." She turned her head to see Mr. Marshall, the middle-aged version of a linebacker posing as her superior, fairly bursting out of his suit and tie, striding toward her with a blonde woman in tow. Her eyebrows rose. Working amidst a sea of men in blazers, ties, and jackets (if they were feeling particularly fancy), the woman in question stood out like a brilliantly pink sore thumb, examining her surroundings excitedly. She had a gauzy scarf wrapped around her slim shoulders, which admittedly matched her pencil skirt well, and her plump lips were pulled into an innocent, if extremely enthusiastic, smile. There was a tiny mole on one cheek.

She tried not to wilt outwardly. Oh, right: the new hire. The newest woman on her floor, besides the cranky security guard, and therefore somehow her responsibility. Apparently it was impossible for men to show women around when they had the option of passing the buck to the nearest person in skirts.

"Allow me to introduce you to Ms. Charlotte La Bouff – I believe I mentioned she'd be starting this week? – so you two can get to know each other before she moves into the cubicle next to yours." The cubicle that Elsa had secretly colonized a few months before, sequestering snacks and little odds and ends that she'd need or want over the course of a day. That cubicle. She tried not to dislike Ms. La Bouff, but she was already more than a little grumpy, what with the copier situation, and so allowed herself just a single moment in which to be aggravated before she plastered a smile to her face that Ms. La Bouff returned immediately.

"Perhaps you'd like to show her around?" Mr. Marshall asked, taking a step back as Elsa set her shoulders and extended her arm. She offered Ms. La Bouff her hand and was the instant recipient of the most bone-shaking, ludicrously vigorous handshake she'd ever had, and she had Anna as a girlfriend.

"Oh my goodness, it is just so nice to meet you!" the woman fairly belted in her face in a thick Southern accent, and Elsa felt whatever foolish spurt of bravery she'd had drop all the way to her feet. "I have been dying to come in; just sweating bullets when they told me I was about to start! I can't thank God enough that there's another girl here – no offense, Mr. Marshall," she said in a much calmer, more demure tone, hardly missing a beat, as Elsa mouthed "what just happened", then continuing her avalanche of words with "And such a pretty lady, too! That jacket, those heels: honey, you have got it going _on._ Oh I know we're going to be the best of friends, aren't we? Tell me we are, please dearie."

"…okay?" Elsa whispered. It was part question, part reflexive defense, but the woman fairly exploded with happiness, releasing her hand after another few sharp pumps that Elsa was certain were designed to remove her arm from its socket. She swallowed hard and rotated her elbow surreptitiously, squinting against the woman's bright smile. "It's…it's very nice to meet you, too, Ms. La Bo-"

"Call me Lottie, please. 'Ms. La Bouff' makes me sound like I'm thirty-five, and Heavens; that thought's terrifying! Bad enough it'll be true soon, but we all can dream, am I right?

Elsa glanced at Mr. Marshall for support, only to find him hurriedly retreating. She tried not to fume at his swiftly disappearing back, seeing as Ms. La Bouff was steadily inching closer. Apparently their definitions of "personal space" were somewhat at odds. She took a short step back and returned her manufactured smile to her face. "Ah, yes, and I suppose you can call me Elsa, then, if we're on a first name basis. Would you like to see the place…?"

" _W_ _ould_ I!" Yes, that would be the response, wouldn't it?

Elsa led Lottie through the floor, introducing her to the people there – here was Mr. Parr, who, if it was possible, was even more built than Mr. Marshall, quiet, with a steady stream of designs and ideas that Elsa particularly enjoyed, even if she was too nervous to say; there was Mr. Oaken, their resident European, who always had a good word for Elsa in the mornings and took an instant liking to Lottie, the pair of them talking so quickly in accents that spanned two continents, making Elsa's head spin as her mind tried desperately to keep up; and along came Hans, douchebag extraordinaire, sidling up to Lottie with his hand extended, a smug grin on his face, wearing another one of his power suits with what he considered a snappy tie as the outfit clincher, eager to find someone else to either suck up to, if it benefited him in any way, or someone to stand on during his inevitable climb to the top of the ladder. Lottie greeted him with just as much joy as she did the rest of the crew, and Elsa tried not to roll her eyes when Hans immediately directed the conversation to his own incredible exploits as another member of the company while Lottie nodded, looking almost thoughtful.

"Oh bless his heart, he's just trying so hard, isn't he?" she asked, and Elsa shuddered as she silently brought Lottie with her to her new cubicle. The woman gasped at the sight of the newly cleaned (and hastily vacuumed) cubicle that was hers now, and she spent a fair amount of time crowing over the lovely view and the excellent new desk and the comfy chair before plopping herself down in said chair and clapping her hands with delight.

Elsa sat in her own chair and pressed her palms together. "So," she said, "have you already met up with IT to get things set up on their end? We don't have our own phone lines here, it's not really necessary, but you will be needing your email address set up soon."

"Wow, do you think they'll give me an email address, then? That's just dandy!"

Elsa snickered at her joke; and to think she'd thought Lottie on the short list when it came to brains. "Yeah, it's pretty good. And a step up from when I first started: I was lucky to get the last rug and fire."

Lottie blinked slowly. "Um…that seems really inconvenient…?"

Elsa stared at her before awkwardly coughing into her fist. "So, perhaps you'd like to visit IT next…?"

* * *

"Dinner's in the oven," were the first words she heard when she wearily pushed open the door, stepping out of her shoes and sinking her toes into the rug. She sighed and hung her bookbag up, not even bothering to take her laptop out, instead rolling her neck and groaning. It had been an incredibly long day, and Lottie had somehow managed to squeeze in a whole lifetime's worth of conversation while Elsa was still reeling. She had a hunch that Lottie had been a world-class swimmer or runner in college: there was no way a normal human being could talk like that for so long without passing out.

She stepped into the kitchen and noted the pizza box stuffed into the recycling section with a tired smile before moving on to the living room where Anna was lying on the couch, popping M&Ms into her mouth as she watched TV. Elsa glanced at the screen. "Happy Feet again? Aren't you getting sick of that?" Anna wordlessly shook her head, sitting up so Elsa could collapse next to her. She thought she saw a puff of dust arise when she did so but didn't have the energy to care. She dropped her head back against the cushions and exhaled slowly.

A hand entered her field of view, and she looked down to see Anna's palm and a bunch of blue M&Ms.

"I saved them for you." Elsa chuckled and accepted the present. "Thanks." She tossed them into her mouth, crunching slowly as she settled into the couch and just breathed.

Anna eyed her, her feet propped up on the coffee table, and slung her arm around Elsa's shoulders. She gratefully leaned into her touch, her girlfriend's warmth seeping into her even through the jacket.

"I'm guessing we're not going out tonight?" Anna asked. Oh, right: that's why she had been excited this morning, it was Friday, and they'd been planning on going out with Flynn to a few bars. Or maybe Eugenie: she wasn't sure what persona their friend was going to adopt until he, or she, showed up, wearing either a shirt and slacks or flamboyant makeup and Gucci knockoffs.

They had met when Anna's wheedling had paid off and Elsa had gone with her to a gay bar; Flynn, or rather, Eugenie, as the elegantly dressed drag queen deemed herself, had taken one look at Elsa and declared the town not big enough for two queens. She decided aloud that she could be the queer while Elsa could be the queen, and Elsa had stammered out a confused "thank you?" while Eugenie waved her hand flippantly. She was a lot more offhanded with her words than Elsa was, but there was something liberating about it; even if Elsa could never attach the word to herself, because it felt too political, she could at least appreciate that Eugenie referred to herself as such without a hint of disrespect.

She dragged her fingers through her hair as Anna rubbed her back, and she hummed in pleasure before sighing. "Yeah, I'm not really feeling up to it," she said, hanging her head apologetically. "I know Flynn was looking forward to going out."

Anna shrugged. "It's okay; we can just have the weekend together instead of the night. 'Sides, we'll probably feel better for it, anyways. You want to do anything here tonight, or...?"

Elsa shook her head. "Honestly? I'd rather just go to bed early." Anna raised her eyebrows. "Sorry, it's just…I'm kinda tired." At Anna's head tilt, she scratched the back of her neck and admitted, "We have a new hire, and I'm the one who got stuck with seeing her around and…she's, uh…interesting."

"Oh? What's she like?"

Don't say blonde, don't say blonde, don't say blonde-

"Blonde," Elsa said, and clapped her hands over her face.

She lowered them to see Anna quivering at her side, eyes flicking between Elsa's own and her hair, lips white as she pressed them firmly against each other, though the ends were curled despite her best efforts to control her smile.

"I don't mean blonde in the _blonde_ way, just…she's kind of exuberant, and uh, maybe a bit scatterbrained, and very, very, _very_ happy to meet new people, and…uh…" This really wasn't helping her case any. Anna nodded slowly in response to her hasty not-explanation, her grin overtaking her face.

"Well," she said, her voice just a tad high, "doesn't she sound like fun? When do I get to meet her?"

Elsa pictured the pair of them in the same room together and a part of her brain broke.

Anna frowned at her. "What do you mean, there aren't any bomb shelters that you know of?"

* * *

Elsa whistled between her teeth as she pulled open the cabinet door, scanning the shelves before she came upon the powdered sugar. She pulled it out and placed it beside the bowl of already mixed ingredients that was waiting on the tabletop. It was nice to be cooking alone: there was something therapeutic, almost artistic, about blending ingredients together and watching what became of just a little creativity and talent, along with a lot of science and history behind it. And while it was all well and good to spend time with her girlfriend, she had gradually come to the realization that Anna, who believed that chocolate fell from the sky fully formed like manna, was slightly less than experienced in the kitchen, and thus it was generally up to Elsa to feed the pair of them. Not that it hadn't been loads of fun to teach Anna that yes, it was possible to make the delicious treat by hand. Even if the other woman had been a little too enthusiastic to really care about how this was done.

A memory flashed before her eyes: "It's just…it's just such a wonderful time to be alive," Anna sobbing into the electric mixer as she fed it chocolate chips, Elsa eyeing her strangely before carefully reaching around her to unplug the item.

She couldn't get too wrapped up in her thoughts: the oven was already preheating, so she had to be quick if she was going to have the cookies ready when it dinged. Still whistling, she drew a finger down the recipe book and tapped it over the line where it described the icing, and measured some out before putting it in a smaller dish to the side. She turned back to the table and caught Anna with her finger inside the bowl, eyebrows high and eyes wide, completely frozen. The other girl slowly drew her finger to her mouth and sucked the cookie dough off of it, her eyes never leaving Elsa's, Elsa, who was pursing her lips and glaring at her girlfriend.

"That," she informed her testily, pointing at her with a dirty spoon, "has raw eggs in it, and I really hope you washed your hands before you-"

She was cut off when Anna yanked her finger out of her mouth and gave her a hard smooch before bolting out of the kitchen, giggling madly like the sinfully cute little leprechaun she was. She'd shake her wooden spoon at her, but both her hands were pressed against her lips, over her tiny, but growing smile.

Flynn swaggered into the room, glancing at the cookie cutters and bowl strewn across the table. He groaned and scrubbed his eyes, collapsing onto a stool like every muscle in his legs had given out as one. "Woman," he said, dropping his head to the island counter, "what are you doing to my poor kitchen?" His voice was muffled against the tiles. It was hardly fair of him to complain: she was well aware of the fact that he hadn't the faintest clue of what he actually owned and had a terrible habit of eating takeout for breakfast and ramen for lunch, with fast food dinners to top it all off. A little home-cooking never hurt anyone.

"I'm making cookies," she told him sweetly, and he looked up, intrigued.

"Oooh, I like cookies. What kind?"

"Raisin oatmeal with bran flakes mixed in." He drooped instantly.

"She's lying: they're sugar cookies," came Anna's voice from the hallway.

_"You_ shouldn't know that," Elsa replied, as she scooped out a heaping spoonful and deposited it on the waiting wax paper, Flynn's eyes following her movements as he drooled. She shot him a look. "And you," she said, emphasizing the word, "are going to be very careful about how many you eat: if I catch you eating more than two in one sitting I'll call your mother."

"Oh come on; what's it going to take for me to have more than two cookies at one time?"

"Probably a cure for diabetes," Anna offered, clomping into the kitchen, now wearing her thick winter boots. They matched her short-shorts and T-shirt quite well. He grumbled about overbearing ninnies and scratched his goatee, dropping a quick "sorry" when Elsa glared at him for threatening the health and safety of her cookies with gross beard hairs. He tried to sneak a piece of dough into his mouth and whimpered when she smacked him with the spoon.

"Always at the mercy of cookware," he said, rubbing his hand, and watched her without further comment as she prepped the cookies for baking, finishing just in time for the thermometer to ding. Anna settled into the stool beside him, and Elsa turned back to see the pair of them sitting next to each other, chins in their hands, watching her with identical looks of want, though she suspected for different reasons, considering Flynn had a thing for big, strapping men and a crippling weakness for sweets, while Anna's eyes were lingering on Elsa's ass without the slightest hint of shame. She shook her head and began to clean the counter, putting the dirty dishes inside one another before sweeping up crumbs and excess flour.

"She's the perfect wife, isn't she?" Her girlfriend's voice was a mix of complete devotion and smug possessiveness; Elsa lifted at eyebrow at her, and Anna blew her a kiss.

He hummed his agreement. "Too bad that's not an option."

"Yeee-eeet," Anna sang, and bounced off the stool, taking the dishes Elsa offered her and depositing them in the full sink to soak. "C'mon, you were going to show me your new system," she said, tugging on Flynn's arm, leading him out of the room.

Elsa's pocket buzzed, and she pulled her phone out, glancing at the screen. "Dad" was calling her; she quickly flipped the phone open and brought it to her ear. "Hello?" The room was already beginning to fill with the delicious aroma of the baking cookies.

Two rooms over, she could hear Anna and Flynn collapsing onto the sofa as the TV clicked on.

"Oh, hello; I was just calling to check up on you. Your mother didn't get to call because she was wrapped up in planning her mother's birthday party, and we hadn't heard from you in a while."

She smiled and leaned back against the counter, twirling the end of her apron string around one finger in lieu of a cord. "Yeah, I heard from Uncle Ryan it's going to be something big; tell her I'm sorry I couldn't make it, okay?"

"Actually, that was something I wanted to talk about…"

"Oh?"

Anna's voice drifted in through the open doorway. "Oh man, I haven't played this game in forever!"

"I've got a game going midway through: you want to start over or go from there?" There was the sound of a game cover cracking open as Flynn spoke. "I have to warn you: it's on hard mode. I won't blame you if you chicken out. It's perfectly fine to be a coward."

"Are you kidding me? I'm totally ready for anything. I am readiness _personified_. 'Ready' is my middle name, in fact. I was born rea-"

"Got it; just hit the button already, my beard is turning white."

The phone crackled in her ear. "Sorry; went through a tunnel. Yeah, see, your mother and I were hoping that, because it's your grandmother's 75th, you'd be able to attend. We were planning on holding a reunion, too."

Elsa considered this, tapping her fingers on the counter as she glanced at the oven door, through which she could see the cookies puffing up.

Her family wasn't particularly religious, more the type that would attend church and Sunday school on one day of the week and not doing much else besides praying briefly over meals the rest of the time, so whereas she had certainly become accustomed to the Catholic faith and its teachings, she hadn't much background in actually practicing the religion. Her grandmother, on the other hand, was a staunch member of the faith, attending church at least three days out of seven, donating to various religious institutions associated with Catholicism, even on her slim pension, and insisting that "Elton" be confirmed before "he" went off on whatever silly little adventure away from home "he" was planning after graduation. Her view of Elsa, therefore, had been twisted and warped around a string of rosary beads and tight, worried eyes as she prayed for her only grandson.

Elsa loved her grandmother in the way that a child loves the Sun: she felt the warmth of her love, but only from afar; when up close, it burned against her skin, the love turning into something else that was less than enjoyable, or healthy, for that matter. She couldn't bear the thought of rejecting her parents, even if their actions put them in the same camp, or at least along the same spectrum, as their own parents, but she could beg leave of her financial situation to avoid visiting her grandmother, who lived even farther away than her parents did. As a result she had sent her many birthday cards in place of actually attending any of her parties, and the thought of doing so filled her with a sense of dread she couldn't express to her waiting father.

From the living room there came the sound of crashing and a high-pitched alarm.

"…hang on, that's bad. That's bad, right?" Anna sounded unsure.

"Why yes, alarms tend to be bad." Flynn sounded much more sure. He should know: his short-term career as a shoplifter in high school had included a crash course in what sounds to avoid.

"Could…" She swallowed around a lump and took a couple of deep breaths. Through the phone, she could hear her father waiting silently for her to continue. She frowned and opened her mouth. "I don't know if I have the money to spend for that." She hated lying to him, but sometimes the words felt better in her mouth than the truth.

"We'd be able to pay for that, since it's a special occasion." He paused for a moment as she wrapped her arm around herself nervously, and then continued. "Was there something you wanted…?"

"Could I take Anna with me?" she blurted out, before she could think better of it. "I know it'd cost more, but…I'd really like it…yeah." She closed her eyes and muttered curses under her breath as the phone went dead for several long moments.

The high-pitched alarm from the other room transitioned into a warbling trilling, accompanied by a series of gunshots and Anna's short, breathless screams.

"Oh come on, just-just use your plasmids; stop, stop…put the wrench down!"

"You can pry it from my cold, dead fingers!"

"Would she even want to come? I mean, it would be nice to finally meet her," he said, and even if his voice sounded a little strained it was the first time he'd ever expressed an interest in her girlfriend. Elsa pressed her hand to her mouth giddily and nodded. She smacked her hand to her forehead and said, "Yes, I…well I mean, I'd have to ask her, but I'm sure she'd love to come with me."

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

"Holy shit you _suck_."

"…um, am I hearing screaming?" her father asked, and Elsa cringed. "Yeah, that's…that's Anna."

"Uh, is she okay?"

"Yeah, we're just uh," she said, and bit her lip, "um, we're at…we're at a church retreat."

She pulled the phone away from her ear, holding it up and waiting a second for Anna to shout "Oh my God!" before returning it to her ear.

"…okay…" he said, sounding entirely unbelieving.

"ELSA HELP ME!"

She laughed. "Hang on, Dad, Anna's calling me." She dropped the phone to her chest and called through the doorway, "Okay, sweetie, what did you need?"

"I've run out of Eve for my plasmids and the splicers are all over my tail and I've set off alarms and-"

Flynn cursed impressively as Anna squealed, "oh _shit_ I did NOT mean to shoot that Big Daddy _fuck me_ fuck me God _damnit_ …"

Elsa blinked. She slowly lifted the phone to her ear. "I'm going to need to call you back," she told her father, speaking clearly and calmly, "I think she's speaking in tongues."

"I'm not your grandmother, you know: you don't have to lie to me."

She rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah…"

He chuckled, and she remembered a time when she and her father spent hours playing with model boats and trains together, he showing her all the things his own father had shown him, how to get the sails to sit just right, how to paint the toy figures so that they appeared alive, how to salvage a wheel when she broke it in her enthusiasm, and smiled.

"But if you do need to go I won't keep you."

"Ah, no, not really. We're kind of just spending a lazy weekend together at a friend's house. Not doing anything exciting, really."

The sound of a machine gun and whimpers notwithstanding, of course.

"It's okay: I don't want to spend too much time on the phone while driving, anyways. I just needed to let you know so that we can work out details over email, okay? I'm certain your mother would agree to hosting Ms. Lillian, if she wants to come."

"I'll ask her," she said firmly. It'd be weird…no, it wouldn't be weird. She'd met Anna's parents, and now she was going to return the favor. It wouldn't be weird at all. Totally normal. "See you later, Dad."

There was a brief squeal of static, and she drew the phone away briefly, pulling it back quickly when he spoke.

"See you later, uh…honey." He sort of stumbled on the last word, but Elsa heard it perfectly. Her jaw dropped open, but before she could ask him about it he had hung up. She glanced down at the screen, still startled. It…it wasn't _quite_ the same as calling her his daughter, but then, he'd never called her by any endearment before, and there was something…

"Oh my God- _Sarcastic Jesus, take the wheel!"_

"I'm not going to-stop trying to give me the controller, you're going to fail on your own!"

"Yes, I _am_ oh God help meeeeeeeee…"

"Oh wow, look at all that blood. Hey Elsa, come look at all this blood!"

Elsa deliberately ignored him and checked the oven, where the cookies were just beginning to turn a lovely shade of golden-brown, and she licked her lips as she pulled on a pair of oven mitts. She smiled as she drew the cookies out, noting how they'd retained their shapes as snowflakes quite well. She began placing them on the rack as the sounds of bloodshed continued in the background.

She stopped and glanced down at her pocket, where her phone sat, and mulled over the previous conversation. Her father usually left the check-ins to her mother, and so she hadn't had a chance to see if her mother's recent acceptance had spread. In every other talk they'd had, though, he'd always made sure to say "goodbye Elton", so the fact that he hadn't was a good sign. Maybe even a step in the right direction. She allowed herself a small, quiet smile as she imagined a day when she could say goodbye and hear both her parents wishing Elsa a good night; a year ago, it had seemed like a crazy dream, but now…

She'd have to tell Anna. But not now, not when she was still unsure of what it meant herself.

There was a sudden silence. Elsa deemed that her cue to enter and, forgetting about silly things like "cooling" or "waiting" or "bake at hundreds of degrees", scooped the cookies onto a plate and headed for the living room.

"Look!" Flynn said excitedly, indicating the screen, which was displaying a rather gruesome image. Anna's slowly shaking head was in her hands, the controller tossed on the couch between them. "Anna made you a picture!"

Elsa settled her hand on her hip and cocked her head, examining the image. "Well," she began, "it _does_ have a lot of pretty colors to it, but I'm not sure of the significance. What were you trying to say?"

"I was just trying to save my ass," Anna mumbled, at the same time Flynn snidely declared that it was "modern art" and therefore well beyond Elsa's capability of understanding.

Elsa glared at him peevishly. "I am _not_ falling for this again, thank you." Anna looked up from her hands, confused, and Elsa blew out a long, hissing breath before reluctantly explaining that Flynn had once suckered her into watching a certain film on the grounds that it was a modernized version of George Orwell's famous novel. She'd made it to the scene where they shot the horse before she realized that "Animal Farm" and "Animal House" were not, in fact, related, nor was the rampant beer consumption a symbolic representation of the gluttonous bourgeoisie draining resources from the impoverished lower classes, despite what Flynn had claimed with all the sincerity of a priest.

Flynn was shaking with laughter as he gasped, "But you know what the best part was?" Elsa closed her eyes and tried not to grind her teeth. "She got so upset with me that she started taking _notes_ to prove me wrong."

"Oh no," Anna said, sighing, "please tell me you didn't, Elsa."

"Cookie?" she asked irritably. Anna happily accepted the still warm treat, instantly sinking her teeth into it and moaning in pain and pleasure.

"I'd like one," Flynn said expectantly.

Elsa sat between them and gave Anna the plate, thus securing forever her girlfriend's love and loyalty, while Flynn crossed his arms and pouted.

"Well fine then. Your turn?" He offered her the controller, and Elsa just gave him a look.

"Elsa's not good at video games," said Anna, who pronounced it "vi-ieo gaice" as she fanned the air in front of her mouth frantically. She gulped and shuddered, squirming in her seat, and Elsa brushed the crumbs off her lap. "So I set her up with the Sims, you know, see if she liked other games, but she stopped playing after only two hours."

"I wasn't aware it was possible to play for any period of time less than eight hours," Flynn admitted, crunching on his own cookie. Elsa blinked, startled, and jerked her head at the plate, where a cookie was missing. Wait, how did-

"Yeah, she set up a house with a pair of sisters – sisters or girlfriends? I don't remember – and at one point the game glitched, or maybe she did something by accident-"

"Oh sure, blame me," Elsa said, sniffing.

"-because the door to one sister's bedroom disappeared, and I couldn't figure out how to put it back, and Elsa just kept getting more and more upset because the Sim kept getting these little moodlets about how she was so _unhappy_ and _lonely_ and wanted to _be_ with someone, and she just rolled wish after wish to see her sister, but couldn't."

Flynn nodded and brushed his lips free of crumbs before taking a bite of a second cookie. Oh come on.

Elsa stole the plate from Anna's lap, ignoring her discontented squawking, determined to keep an eye on it. "And then," she said, "you restarted the game after it froze, and we had to remake the second sister, because her hair stopped working, and I just gave up and went back to Minecraft. I least I understand how _that_ works."

"She's already built this enormous palace," Anna said between huge bites: she clearly hadn't learned from her experience from before. "Made out of diamond," she added, this time out of the corner of her mouth. Elsa could practically see the steam coming out of her.

"Ice," she corrected. Flynn tried to nonchalantly lean back against the couch, his arm coming up, and Elsa tapped her fingers against the plate edge in warning.

"Well yeah, but you can only use diamond, so…"

"I'm pretending its ice, because that makes it prettier." She glared at Flynn's hand as it edged closer to the cookies, and it retreated silently.

"It'd be a lot prettier if you'd just let me play with it," Anna fairly whined.

"I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop sneaking onto my account and planting flowers in my ice palace."

"Look, it's beautiful, but it'd be so much nicer with a bit of color, you know? Like reds, and greens, and blues…"

She made a face. "That just doesn't work with ice. Ice is supposed to be iridescent: it _produces_ the colors by itself."

"Yeah, except not in like 8-bit blocks."

At her side, Flynn gave a heaving sigh and shook his head in resignation. "Listen, I didn't want to have to do this, but…here it comes." Flynn tilted his head and pinned Elsa to the couch with his puppy dog eyes, and she felt her resolve shrivel up against the onslaught of adorableness, he only relenting with a happy little noise when she sighed and handed him a cookie.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: You may have noticed, if you've been looking over the older chapters recently, that there have been some changes. The vast majority of these have been clarifying writing errors/poor writing in general, but some have been to make things clearer, like adding speech tags and making sure that the movements from one place to another make sense. The plot hasn't changed, so rereading isn't necessary.
> 
> Content Warning: Slurs and PTSD ahead. You have been warned.

“…which is when I said to her Tia, sweetie, you are just working way too hard, your hours are too long, you are juggling so many plates – she looked at me kinda funny when I said that because you know, waitress? – and you really need to take a breather because how are you going to keep this up? How long can this go on until you are just completely out of breath? Tia girl I love you, but if you keep working your fingers to the bone like this I’m going to have to lay down the law and put my foot down you hear me?”

“Mhmmm,” Elsa said, and peeled the lid off her yogurt.

Lottie, whose scarf was probably hiding gills that worked above water, continued over her without pause, her hands moving in time with her mouth, both at an impressive clip. “You gotta worry about your husband and your children first and this restaurant business second. I know that this is really important to you because it’s always been your dream but can’t you see that you’re just wearing yourself out? And with nothing to show for it because these things take time because if there’s one thing I know, it’s the value of patience.”

“Right,” Elsa said, and spooned some yogurt into her mouth. She frowned, looked down at the cup, and then rolled her eyes and stuck the spoon back in, swirling the plastic utensil around until the strawberries rose to the top.

“Exactly!” Lottie crowed. “Oh we could be twins. Which is when she said that she was just trying to put together a list of recipes, you know, so she could start off her restaurant the right way and the only way to do that is to really practice with them but she’s already such a good cook, so why not find recipes online? They’re just as good as homemade – and that’s when she just gave me this look like she was saying ‘Oh Lottie you are the most adorable little thing but you have no idea what you’re talking about…’”

“If she wanted some homemade recipes I’d gladly share some of mine,” Elsa offered, scooping up a strawberry.

The instant silence sounded deafening. She glanced up to see Lottie’s startled face, her jaw hanging stationary and limp. It was in stark contrast to its usual state of near-constant motion.

Lottie’s eyes were wide and unblinking. “What?”

Elsa’s gaze darted around the much quieter lunch room in confusion before returning to her face. “What?”

“Were you…-” Elsa boggled at the sight of Lottie struggling to speak “-were you _listening_?”

“Yes…?” Elsa asked, her voice climbing even higher than normal. Given Lottie’s reaction she wasn’t entirely sure anymore. She’d heard and listened to every word, but…had she missed something? Would Tia-Tiana, she corrected herself-find it insulting to be offered recipes? But that hardly made any sense. Everyone she had ever met loved sharing their own quirks and tips in the kitchen, whether she was talking about an industrial kitchen, a family gathering, or…

Or with Ellie.

For a moment her chest tightened, but it passed and she slipped the spoon into her mouth. It had been a while. She’d gotten over it.

Lottie sat back in her chair, her lunch still untouched. “Oh. Well.” She stared at her open dish as the sounds from the rest of the room filtered in through the gap in the conversation. There was the clink of silverware against lunch trays and someone’s food being microwaved as Oaken laughed at something Bob had said a table to their right. There was a poster on nutrition hanging to the left of the fridge that Elsa hadn’t noticed before but Lottie swore had been there for at least two weeks. Her times spent in the lunch room were few and far between, as the news van was usually within the city limits. But since Anna’s most recent story was set well outside the city, Elsa had been left alone with her meal. Up until Lottie had spied her, of course.

The other woman appeared to be memorizing the contents of her lunch in preparation for some dreaded test. “Um, Lottie…?” Elsa asked. “Is everything okay?”

Lottie sighed. “I just…people don’t always listen to me when I talk, so…”

Elsa stopped before taking another bite. “They _don’t_?” She wasn’t sure how they couldn’t. Lottie was a battering ram made out of half-shouted words, absurdly long sentences and the occasional squeal of excitement. Her words demanded attention in the same way her die-hard adherence to pink in any and all articles of clothing did.

Lottie poked her chicken with a fork. “Well…they do listen, they just…” She shrugged, her bottom lip emerging in a growing pout. “They don’t always pay attention to what I’m saying. Think it’s not worth listening to. Or too much, I guess.”

Elsa smiled around a mouthful of strawberry and banana. Simple problems were the easiest to solve. Swallowing, she said, “I wouldn’t worry about that with me. My girlfriend loves to talk too, so-”

“I _knew_ you had to be gay!” Lottie cried, slamming her palms down on the table, sending one of Elsa’s grape tomatoes into her yogurt. Elsa sighed. Back to normal. “I mean, really,” Lottie said, “you’re voting for _Lasseter.”_

“You don’t have to be gay to support gay politicians,” Elsa responded as she rescued the tomato and dropped it on her napkin. The assumption was common, but wrong. “After all my friends are…” she trailed off, glaring at the pink tomato. Come to think of it, she didn’t have any straight friends. She knew and liked a bunch of people, like Oaken and Bob and a few other people at work, but they certainly weren’t friends. All of the people that she knew in college had either been acquaintances or friends of Elton, so it wasn’t like she could see _them_ again; her circle was comprised solely of Anna and the few friends she felt comfortable introducing to Elsa. It had bothered her once because she wondered if she was the reason Anna didn’t bring many friends over. Anna had said, with a tense look on her face, that yes, this was the case, but it wasn’t Elsa’s fault at all. For some reason that wasn’t reassuring.

Lottie brushed off the unaired argument with a flippant hand. “I always knew,” she announced, sincerity ringing in her voice.

“Honestly I was really disappointed with his changing policies. I liked him better when he was running under the Green Party,” Elsa admitted. Of course, given their history at electing officials to office, it had been hardly surprising that he’d run under the Independent flag, which had meant a softening of some of his policies, something that irked her. An advocate’s job was to be an advocate, not a brownnoser.

“Hey there, ladies,” Hans said as he came up to them. Speak of the devil. He had one hand on the table as he leaned over them, his red tie swinging in the air when he offered Lottie a wide, warm smile that didn’t reach his eyes but did look rather impressive. If you were into that sort of thing. Lottie smiled in return, batting her eyes. Elsa went back to her yogurt.

“I’ve been meaning to stop by, see how you’ve been settling in,” he continued. “You know I’m just a holler away, if you need anything.”

‘Because I’ll give you all sorts of ideas about how helpful and friendly I can be when you’re new and unlikely to ask me for anything because it makes me look good and I can brag about how I’m fostering goodwill in the workplace the next time I beg for a raise’ was what he didn’t say, but Elsa heard him loud and clear. Lottie didn’t; she was cooing over his offer like he’d dropped to one knee and started serenading her. It wasn’t that far from the truth.

“And that reminds me,” he said, straightening and pulling two chocolates from his pocket. He winked at Lottie, who happily accepted the gift. “From me to you.”

“Wow, Oaken has chocolate just like these,” Elsa said in a monotone. He had given Lottie some that morning, presenting Elsa with her own piece of dark chocolate that she took with a shy smile. He was closer to forty than he was to thirty, and as a result was much farther down the line than she was, but he always had something nice to say to her each day, which made up for their boss’s tendency to treat the office like his personal prison ward.

“Really? Hans asked. “Huh. Guess we both have great taste. Have a good lunch, ladies.” He strode off and Elsa resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the way he held his chest far out in front of him, a manufactured swagger to his step. She knew what overcompensating looked like. She glanced down at the chocolate in front of her without a hint of interest, considering. She was far too old to believe in cooties.

She gave up the treat to Lottie anyways.

“Hey, are you going to get that?” Lottie asked through a mouthful of chocolate, pointing at Elsa’s pocket, which was buzzing. She pulled out her phone and the buzzing stopped.

“No, it’s just a text,” she said, and glanced at the screen. She frowned. “Wait, what?” 

* * *

 

Elsa stepped inside the apartment. She walked through the hallway and kitchen, following the path of drip-marks. She hung her jacket up, noting Anna’s lying in a heap on the floor on top of her muddy shoes, her backpack slumped over both items, all just beneath the coat rack. There was no one in the living room, Anna’s laptop was closed and humming quietly at her desk; the bathroom door was ajar.

She ducked her head into the bedroom and assessed the situation. There was a sock on top of the little bedside table, its partner lying on the ground nearby. Anna’s formerly cream blouse and russet pencil skirt, both now stained a lovely shade of puke green, had been tossed into the laundry basket. A few dribbles on the carpet indicated that they were still wet. Her underwear was similarly ruined and discarded. The bed, meanwhile, consisted of a fitted under sheet that was just where Elsa had left it last, two sets of fluffed pillows arranged neatly at the headboard, and a single large, irregular lump of blankets in the dead center. It was making muffled noises that sounded like kittens meowing.

Elsa pursed her lips. This called for some reinforcements.

Returning to the kitchen, she opened the cabinet above the sink. She ignored the Fruity Pebbles, Cookie Crisp and Cocoa Puffs and instead went straight for the Kashi. She pulled the cereal box out and flipped open the top, lifting the bag within to get to the second bag, which was filled with chocolate Teddy Grahams. She snagged a clean plate from the drying rack, poured a generous dose of the treats out and then headed back to the bedroom, dropping the bag on the counter as she went.

Elsa sat down on the bed beside the clump of blankets, which was still meowing. The phone sized rectangle of light that was dimly visible through the covers indicated the source of the noise. Elsa pulled out a small corner of the blankets from the rest of the mass, placed the plate in front of it, and settled herself upon the mattress, kicking one foot idly.

She didn’t have long to wait. A hand slithered out from within the blankets and stole several cookies before returning to safety. Crunching noises commenced immediately, and the meowing stopped.

Elsa patted the nearest large bulge.

The crunching paused. “That’s my butt,” said the blankets.

She removed her hand. “Oh, sorry.” The blankets quivered in response, and the hand returned to the air to wave in the general direction of the largest bulge. “It’s okay, you can keep touching it.”

Elsa chuckled under her breath and returned her hand to the pile of blankets.

She tilted her head. “How many kitten Youtube videos have you watched?”

“Fourteen,” said the blankets, “but most of them were short.” The hand sneaked over to the plate and retreated again.

 _Crunch crunch crunch_.

Elsa patted the blankets. “Did you want to talk about it?”

_Crunch crunch crunch._

“Would you prefer it if I talked about my day, first?”

“…yes,” admitted the blankets after a pause.

Elsa flopped back on bed and sighed, running her fingers through her hair and ruining her simple trademark bun. “Well, it was kind of the usual…”

The day had been relatively normal. The morning meeting had seen Mr. Marshall in a sullen sulk, which meant it could be any other day of the week, and he sipped his coffee without uttering a single word as Hans dominated the discussion, despite the fact that almost all present were equal partners on the current project. On more than one occasion Elsa had held her tongue when Hans interrupted her with an insight of his own that was simply too important _not_ to share. Elsa knew now that her input was best presented in condensed, written form, where it had a chance of being appreciated, a lesson she’d had to learn the hard way over the last few years. Thankfully for everyone’s sanity, Lottie was not yet included in larger, more expensive projects, and so she had been spared what surely would have been the verbal equivalent of whack-a-mole, judging by Mr. Marshall’s unblinking glare at every new speaker.

Her lunch hour had been spent with Lottie as she wrote cluttered notes on a napkin, asking “was that a teaspoon or a tablespo-oh I’m sure she’ll know which” as Elsa spoke around bites of salad. Their shared elevator ride back to the office had been filled with the sound of Lottie’s heated promises that she’d return the favor a “hundred hundredfold!” with the best recipes Elsa had ever tasted. Elsa was sure she could give Lottie a run for her money on that claim, but she’d seemed so certain that she hadn’t argued. Besides, maybe she’d be pleasantly surprised.

“…and I got a text from Flynn. Something about ‘another clip for the blooper reel’…?”

A long, heavy sigh filtered through the blankets. “He’s been keeping track of my appearances and putting together all the clips where I do something stupid or silly.”

“How does he manage to do that while working?”

“He told me once that one monitor’s for the stocks and the other’s for dicking around.”

Ah. That sounded about right.

She had never thought of blankets capable of looking depressed but they were certainly giving off that vibe. “We were doing a segment on the mayor opening up the river to fishing with a permit,” they mumbled. Evidently this was too serious for a mouthful of crumbs, because there was a long pause and an exaggerated gulping noise.

“That sounds interesting,” Elsa said in the meantime.

“We decided to film me walking along the dock as I delivered my lines.”

“Okay, sounds fine.”

“The dock that’s underwater in high tide.”

…oh boy.

“I was wearing heels for the first time in…forever. I dunno, I just wanted to, I guess.”

Oh _boy_.

“You ever heard the phrase a long walk off a short pier?” the blankets asked in a tone so glum Elsa sighed and pushed the plate closer. And she’d been planning on making something healthy tonight.

“Was it very slippery?” she asked.

 _“Covered_ in muck. So was I, after I fell in. Kristoff jumped in after me. It was kind of sweet but kind of dumb, too. Weselnose screamed at him for five minutes straight until he found out Kristoff hadn’t hurt the camera at all and then he didn’t care. He’s a dick.”

Elsa made a nonverbal noise of agreement. “I’m guessing a lot of people saw you fall?”

“Not there, but we were live, so… ”

Elsa wordlessly patted the butt bulge as the munching noises returned.

“You’re not supposed to know about these.” The blankets sounded accusing and vaguely ornery.

“I’m not supposed to know about what?” Elsa asked, turning on her side and propping herself up on one elbow. A smaller bulge shook as laughter snuck through the covers; that must be her head. She dropped her hand on top of it and stroked her through the blankets. A soft noise of contentment seeped through this time.

“But hey, it’s Thursday, and that means tomorrow we’re going to see your family for the whole weekend, okay?” Elsa said.

“Mmmmph.”

Elsa sighed and tried again. “We’re going to see your mom and dad…”

“Mmmmph.”

“We’re going to see your sister…”

“Double mmmph. Also Flynn has her email address.”

“Okay, how about this,” Elsa said, still stroking the blankets softly. “I’ll order us some really greasy Chinese food, and we can watch the last season of Meerkat Manor in bras and sweatpants. Sound good?”

The blankets weighed this proposition silently.

Anna’s head popped out of the blankets. “Can I paint your toenails?” she asked.

Elsa chuckled. “Sure. But only if they’re lavender.”

* * *

 

 “LEAH!”

Irene’s call was met with complete, and therefore completely suspicious, silence.

Bernard just shrugged and moved past his wife when she raised an eyebrow at him. “I dunno,” he said. “She was there a minute ago.”

“A likely excuse,” she said, tutting.

“Anyways,” Bernard said, turning back at the top of the stairs, “just got a call from Anna, so I’m gonna go pick her and her girlfriend up; be back in ten. See what Leah’s up to, okay?”

Irene planted her hands on her hips, frowning at him as he trundled down the stairs. “And weren’t _you_ the one who was supposed to see if she’d cleaned up?”

He flashed her a broad grin over his shoulder. “Who, me?” He disappeared downstairs with a snicker and Irene shook her head, muttering about manchildren under her breath. She ducked her head inside Anna’s old room and was pleased, if only a little surprised, to see the bed made and vacuum marks on the rug. Oh and look, even the mirror had been cleaned. She was almost about to feel a glimmer of hope for her younger daughter when she noticed that the bed had been made all right…with Buzz Lightyear covers. They looked just like the ones Anna used back in grade school. Irene glanced at the closet, where a box was hanging open. She should’ve known better: either Leah was trying to needle her older sister or she hadn’t care enough to get real covers.

A heavy slam and then pounding signified that her younger daughter had decided to grace the world with her presence. “Oh don’t even try that,” Irene said, grabbing her by the elbow as Leah tried to slip past her, “let’s see that room of yours, first.” The girl groaned but marched after her mother as she investigated the scene of the crime. Irene’s fears were, as per the norm, unfortunately realized: Leah’s room looked like it had been visited by gnomes with anger issues and a particular distaste for clean laundry. Irene pursed her lips and shot Leah a look that the girl returned, unblinking.

“I thought I told you to clean up in here,” she said.

“No,” Leah said, with a sullen drawl that was a few years too early, “you said I should ‘make things presentable’ for Anna and her girlfriend.”

Irene waved at the mess. “And you call _this_ presentable?”

Without so much as turning her head Leah silently pulled the door closed, blocking out the sight, and folded her arms. “There, fixed.” Irene made a small, pained noise as she rubbed her forehead, muttering, “just go make sure the dining room is clean, okay?” Heaving a sigh that would not have been out of place in dramatic play, Leah obeyed, sticking one foot out in front of the other jerkily as she stomped down the stairs, her mother close at her heels, telling her to hurry it up already. 

* * *

 

Leah stared down at her in a mixture of disbelief and horror. “She wants to _what_?”

“She wants to make us dinner,” Anna said, grunting a little as she hunted for the rice cooker, tucked safely away from any prying hands beneath the counter. And probably long forgotten. She would not be surprised to find it covered in dust. “When she heard Mom had never had sushi before she said we just had to make some. Together. All of us. That’s why we brought rice and stuff. ‘Cause I don’t think Mom even knows that rice comes in different types.”

Leah clearly wasn’t on board. “But what’s the point of coming over if you’re just gonna do work?” she asked, throwing her arms out as if to appeal to the heavens for help in convincing Anna that no, cooking wasn’t fun and what was she _thinking_? Not that she needed to; Anna had insisted that Elsa, as a guest, was not in any way required to make food for her hosts. The only problem was that Elsa had a habit of insisting harder whenever there was some way she could help others and, in her words, “for me, it’s not really work, it’s more…fun, see? Like, it’s something that everyone can do, together, and this way everyone can make their own roll and we can share.”

Anna suspected that part of it was an attempt to prove to her parents that Elsa was capable, loving, affectionate, a worthy match for their daughter’s hand and all that jazz, but another part was a desire to do something together as a family. With her family across the country that wasn’t something Elsa was able to do, and Anna knew from the way that she would wax nostalgic about helping her parents build something or other – her mother was quite fond of birdhouses – that she longed for the days when they could do something together. Not to mention something she’d actually enjoy doing: Elsa’s main takeaway from building and yardwork were splinters and backaches.

Anna spied the cord for the rice cooker and tugged on it, wincing as the legs squealed. “She just wants to do something nice for us all, and her cooking’s pretty good. And she likes being in the kitchen and making stuff. It’s like art for her.”

The girl shot her sister a look as Anna struggled to pull the rice cooker out. “You’re dating Martha Stewart.” Her tone said exactly what she thought of the woman.

“Nah, Elsa’s cuter, and sweeter,” Anna said, popping up and placing the rice cooker on the counter. Leah shrugged begrudgingly in agreement. Elsa had cleverly secured her loyalty by losing seven straight Pokemon battles to the girl during another one of Irene’s visits, which pleased the little girl’s big ego like nothing else. The fact that Elsa didn’t know Pikachu from a yellow beach ball was perhaps best left unsaid. The concept of multiple generations would have been completely lost on her.

“I’m what?” Elsa asked, walking into the kitchen, back from dropping their overnight bags in Anna’s room. She’d given Anna’s bedcovers a good hard look but had decided not to say anything when Anna turned red and announced she had better get started on dinner, taking the stairs four at a time. Irene and Bernard were parked in the living room after Elsa had told them that there wasn’t anything to do until the rice was cooked, Bernard quite pleased with this method of making food – “It’s like waiting at a restaurant but on couches!” – and Irene holding a small drink as they conversed quietly.

“You’re our cook, is what I said,” Anna decided. Leah, standing at her side, shook her head, but Elsa didn’t comment. Anna grabbed the bowlful of rice, lifting the lid to the cooker. “Rice coming right up-”

“Ah ah ah,” Elsa said, snagging Anna by one belt loop before she could dump the rice directly into the rice cooker and sending her off to “ _wash_ it first”. Leah was happy to assist, if “assist” in the sense of watching Anna swirl the rice around in the sink while Elsa pulled vegetables out of the grocery bag she’d brought and began preparing them.

Leah hopped up on the counter and kicked her legs. “Making sushi is _boring_ ,” she announced, her head thunking against the cabinet.

“Except you’re not making it, you’re just getting-” Anna poked her in the thigh with a carrot “–in my way. I need that space.”

“Your face needs space.”

“Are you two insulting each other in rhyme now?” Irene called. “You both know we don’t allow that.”

“We run a tight ship here,” Bernard added. “And don’t you forget it.”

Anna gave Elsa a look as she skinned the carrot. “…what?”

Elsa’s shoulders were shaking with her laughter but the knife steady in her hand, the slices of crisp pepper falling to the side like dominoes. “I just…I like your family.”

“Good. ‘Cause if you didn’t I’d get a new one. Just. For. You.” Anna punctuated each word with a kiss on the tip of Elsa’s nose. Leah made an exaggerated gagging noise and hopped off the counter, strolling towards the living room with an offhanded comment about calling her in if they needed anything.

“Just so you know,” Elsa called, “we will need you, all of you, once everything’s ready. We’re going to make our own rolls and toppings.”

Bernard whistled. “We get to pick our own toppings? Damn, this is a lot fancier than the stuff I’m used to.”

“Why, what are you used to?” Elsa asked, glancing through the doorway. Leah was already tugging her phone out of her pocket and flouncing onto the sofa beside her mother.

“To give you an idea, after you live with _this_ -”he jerked a thumb at his wife “-one’s cooking for years, you start to like MREs.” Irene rolled her eyes and sipped her drink. Licking her lips, she said, “at least Elsa’s here. Elsa, did you tell him you used to work in a restaurant?”

“Oh yeah,” Elsa said, slicing the cucumber into pieces quickly. “During college as a part time job. It had a name, but we just called it ‘the Castle’ because it, well, looked like a castle. God, I miss that place. It smelled…” She tilted her head back, breathing in as her eyes fell closed, lost in a memory that felt like a warm drink on a cold night. “It smelled…it always smelled like baking bread. And I mean the really rustic, thick kind; real bread, not the tissue paper they sell in stores.” Every Monday through Thursday morning, she’d open, a magical time when there was nothing but the smell of fresh dough as they prepared the rolls and breads for that afternoon and evening. No customers, just sprinkle some flour and work with your hands, and she could wear a bandana and claim it was because she hated hairnets.

Anna giggled at the sight of her face as she reminisced. “Wow, if it was that much fun why did you leave?”

Because it was right around her second year of college that she had begun taking hormones in order to “control” her endocrine disorder, as she patiently explained to her mother, out of a fear that speaking too quickly would make her lie more apparent. Because she had nearly lost her mind navigating between the rocks of daily stressors while wearing the skin of two different people in one body; Elton, who could work and attend school and talk to his parents, living in a stupor, living for the times when she could be Elsa, who could not be seen by anyone other than strangers or an overworked, uninterested school therapist but who could breathe at night. Because those long months where she straddled the line between male and female had been fraught with danger. Adding on the stress of work would have been impossible for her to bear.

“I wanted to focus on my classes some more,” she said. “I knew that I did want to do something more than just work in a restaurant the rest of my life, and since I didn’t want to manage one I knew I needed another career. But there’s nothing wrong with a little passion on the side, right?” She began laying out strips of smoked salmon on a plate besides the ring of vegetables, glaring at Anna when her girlfriend snuck a piece of fish into her mouth. “Patience is a virtue.”

Bernard got up with a groan, rubbing his lower back as he wandered into the kitchen, peering at the assembled stations of plates, dishes of soy sauce, vegetables and other choices. “Mmmm, nice.” He had an empty beer bottle in his hand that he tossed into the recycling. “So when do we eat?”

“Patience is a virtue,” Anna told him snootily, folding her arms and sticking out her tongue at her dad whose low chuckle was, by now, very familiar to Elsa.

“I can really see the family resemblance,” Elsa mused, glancing between Anna, slender and fair skinned and red haired, and her father, built short, stout, and with his hair buzzed so close to his head it was hard to determine color beyond a generic “dirty blond”. Anna definitely took more after her mother, who seemed at times a taller, blonder version of Anna herself, but if she saw Anna and Bernard together she would never mistake them for strangers. They had the same quirky, omnipresent smile and expressive green eyes. Leah’s smile was just as wide, but a rarer sight.

“Beauty does tend to come from the father,” Bernard quipped before heading back into the living room, and Elsa wasn’t fast enough to cover her smile, nor to pull her hand away as Anna tugged her into the living room as she rambled about mingling with her parents since it felt like she hadn’t seen them in _forever_. This despite the fact that Irene’s visit had been only a few weeks ago: Anna’s definition of “forever” was in need of tweaking. Elsa hadn’t seen her own parents in years. She always seemed to be working when they were free, probably because she never fought for vacations at all. There was something to be said for distance. It allowed her the freedom to love and be loved, and that was all that mattered.

Anna flopped onto the sofa beside her mother and poked her in the thigh until Irene moved over, grumbling, only to run into Leah on her other side, who was deeply engrossed in whatever game she was playing. Elsa took her place on the opposite sofa, laying her hands on her crossed knees and sitting up straight, humming a little under her breath as she glanced around the room. Bernard was craning his neck to see over Leah’s shoulder and she was ignoring him, fingers moving in rapid succession. He had spent the ride from the train station asking Elsa about where she was from, what sorts of things she liked to do, what was it like living amongst uncivilized barbarians – Anna had leaned forward from the backseat to punch him in the arm as he laughed – and had filled in the gaps she left in her speech with his own stories and jokes that had her relaxing into the car seat. It wasn’t that long a ride, but by the end of it she’d felt brave enough to laugh for real at the things he’d said, and had been rewarded with a familiar smile on an older, more rugged face, eyes twinkling. She didn’t have to worry about whether he’d notice her laugh sounded off, her hands too large, her height too much of a clue: he, like everyone else in the room, knew about her and just…didn’t care.

There was something incredibly kind about not caring.

Bernard nudged his younger daughter. “Quit being a stick in the mud, you.” He jerked his chin at his older daughter. “And you. You’re not paying rent. What’re you dawdling for? We have a _guest_. You’re supposed to be entertaining her. What good are you?”

Leah grumbled but slipped her phone into her pocket, Anna making the exact same noise, both of them getting up and nimbly avoiding their mother’s legs, which were propped up on the coffee table, Anna moving to stand beside the sofa Elsa was on. “Hey, did you want to see the rest of the house?” she asked. “Since we have to wait for the rice.”

Elsa, who was squinting at the mantelpiece, looked back at her with a distracted “hmmm? Oh, well, it won’t be that long. You did take a while to chop those carrots.”

Leah, standing on tiptoe, pointed at one of the pictures Elsa had been peering at from afar. “Did you want to look at these?”

“Yes,” Elsa said, hoping it wasn’t too forward of her, but caught all the same, “I’d like to if that’s okay, thanks.”

Leah waited, eyebrows rising as the seconds passed, and then added, “so get up and look at them.”

Her mother scolded her for being rude while Elsa stood, placating Irene with a touch on her shoulder. She was beginning to realize that Anna surrounded herself in a bubble of optimism, as compared to her sister, who enjoyed being sarcastic, probably because she mistook that for sounding older, but there were worse things to be. Coming over to the mantel, Elsa picked up the first picture, of several, but paused. Beside the pictures was a neat pile of DVDs labelled “Anna’s TV Appearances” in Irene’s handwriting that went up by month. On the top of the pile was a DVD labelled “Best Hits”. A pile to the right was called “Home Videos”; there was another “Best Hits” at the top, too. Elsa smiled and looked down at the picture she was holding.

It was a family photo, as was immediately apparent by the familiar, if somewhat younger faces, taken at a beach. The four of them were squashed together so close that Anna, in the middle, was half sitting in Bernard’s lap and half on the sand, Irene was twisted sideways to fit in the shot and Leah was draped over Anna and her mother’s legs. All of them had huge smiles on their faces as they shoved their feet at the camera, which were covered in…

Elsa snorted before she could stop herself, but no one cringed, so she relaxed. She nodded at the picture. “Crocs? Really?”

“Yep,” Anna said, beaming at her as she leaned against the mantel. “That was Croc Day.”

“What was Croc Day?”

“The day we all wore Crocs,” Bernard responded without missing a beat. Helpful to the core.

Elsa shook her head and picked up the next photo. Bernard in the back, wearing a patchy straw hat, was sipping at a creamy looking drink through a plastic straw that had several wonky loops in it. Irene had on a pair of enormous sunglasses that covered half of her face: the rest of it was frowning as she smacked the back of Anna’s hand when she reached for her mother’s drink, which, judging by the tiny umbrella, was probably alcoholic. Anna looked to be about sixteen, all arms and legs and freckles. Leah, standing in front of them, came up to her sister’s knees and was sporting at least five leis around her neck, making her look like she had on an extremely fat, flowery donut. She was smiling like she knew something the cameraman didn’t.

All of them were wearing wildly different Hawaiian shirts. Bernard’s had Army symbols on it, Irene’s appeared to be some sort of reference to Space Invaders, Leah’s was inside out and missing a button while Anna’s was neon pink with abstract flowers dyed a psychedelic blue and converted into a bikini top. The whole effect was so offensive to her sense of aesthetics Elsa’s cheeks were starting to ache from how hard she was smiling. She flipped the frame around when Anna made an inquisitive noise, raising her eyebrows.

“Well obviously that was Hawaiian Shirt Day,” Anna said in response to her unspoken question. Elsa nodded and set the frame down. She took another quick look at Anna’s exaggerated look of hurt in the photo, stifled a giggle, and looked at the next photo down the line.

This time, they were all dressed much more formally, with Anna sporting a rare pair of heels that almost brought her up to her mother’s height, if only Irene weren’t wearing her own set. Bernard had reacquired hair only to slick it back in what seemed like an attempt at class, and all of them were standing in front of a piano placed atop a stage. Leah was wearing a cute little skirt and had her hair in a small bun that was clearly Irene’s work, and she looked beyond thrilled to be there, so much so that Elsa could feel the waves of resentment from where she stood. Anna, in what looked suspiciously like her business clothes, was holding Leah’s arm up and pointing at the small ribbon in her hand while waving happily at the camera. It looked like a piano recital, right down to the crying children in the background and their exasperated parents.

“I don’t see any matching outfits here,” Elsa said, over her shoulder. “Which day was this?”

“Merkin Day,” Bernard said, not even looking up. Irene choked on her drink and smacked him on the shoulder, or tried to; he had already dodged by the time she got her arm up.

“How do you spell that?” Leah mumbled to her phone, thumbs poised. Anna squawked like a startled canary. “What? _What?_ Since when did _she_ get an iPhone? _I_ didn’t get one until I was in high school!”

Irene, swallowing hastily as she glared at her husband, managed a thick, “that’s because they weren’t around when you were in high school.”

Anna threw her arms in the air. “That’s beside the point! She shouldn’t be using anything other than a stone tablet and a chisel!”

“Like that brick you call a laptop?” Leah muttered. “Seriously how do you spell that?”

Bernard began, “m-e-r-” at the same time Irene said, “you don’t need to know that.”

The rice cooker beeped.

Elsa clapped her hands together, looking at the four of them in turn. “Okay, do you all want to learn how to make sushi?” 

* * *

 

It was like herding cats, if cats were overeager, excitable, prone to tripping up and whining for help, and-

…dogs. It was like herding dogs. Irene was cringing as she rolled her sushi up, somehow winding up with a roll that was thicker on one end than the other, with the insides squeezed out the sides, Anna wasn’t faring much better, Leah had managed to spill the rest of the vegetables on the floor as she strained on tiptoe, hunting through the cabinet for something, and Bernard was frowning at the mess of vegetables on the floor as he tried to pat his rice down, the vast majority of it sticking to his fingers. Elsa hovered behind them all, offering help and hints and biting her lip harder and harder when Anna muttered under her breath as part of her nori tore when she began cutting. And to think she’d seriously considered staying home when Anna offered to bring her. This was too much fun to pass up.

Irene set the knife down. “Okay, I think…well I wouldn’t say I’m done, but I’m not sure how I could make this any worse, so…I’m done.”

“Awesome!” Elsa crowed. “And look, you’ve…well it’s very colorful.” Positive reinforcement was always important. Even if she was crossing her fingers behind her back. “Let’s get this plated.”

She showed her how to arrange it on the plate in such a way that it was almost presentable, and did the same with hers and Anna’s portions. Leah, who had been trying to unscrew a bottle with little success, gave up and took her plate out along with the bottle.

“Thief!” Bernard called through the doorway, shaking his rice-covered fist. “Come back with my cucumber!”

“There’s another one in the grocery bag at your feet,” Elsa said. Actually, there were two more: Anna’s prowess in the kitchen, which she claimed came straight from her mother, had given Elsa the heads up to bring back-ups, and back-ups for the back-ups. “Here, have the peeler.”

“Help me with these, please.” Irene loaded Anna’s empty arms with a pair of plates, a bottle of soy sauce and several of the small dishes, but her daughter hurried out of the kitchen before she could lay glasses atop the plates. She snorted and pulled some down, passing them to Leah and both of them headed for the dining room.

Bernard grunted as he struggled with the peeler and cucumber.

“Uh, did you want some help with…” Elsa winced at the sudden “crack” of the blade breaking off.

“God I hate these things,” Bernard muttered, glaring at the broken tool in his hands. “Always breaking on me.” He tossed it straight into the garbage and looked down at the now mangled cucumber, drumming his fingers on the cutting board.

“Are there any other ones?” Elsa asked as he pulled the silverware drawer open.

“No,” he said, examining the contents of the drawer before pushing it shut. Elsa glanced over her shoulder as she tugged the pot of rice, now empty, into the sink, filling it with water.

“Use a knife, maybe? I’m not sure where mine went off to.”

He shook his head. “No thanks, those are too big and unwieldy for me to use-” He snapped his fingers. “I got it! Just don’t tell anyone, okay?” he said, leaning around the doorway as he did so.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice scratchier than she’d like. It had always been hard for her to whisper while keeping her voice pitched high.

“She hates it when I do this, so…this’ll be our little secret, okay?” Bernard looked back briefly, tossing her a wink, to which Elsa nodded gamely. Satisfied that the rest of the crew were occupied with the table, he fished something out of his pocket and pressed it.

The “snik” of the switchblade popping out sent her miles away in an instant.

_All she could see out of the corner of her eye was his scowl, the disgust written in ugly lines across his sneering lips._

_“No…please!” Her heart pounded to the song of a caged animal. Her voice cracked and broke at the seams, hung low with fear, the giveaway._

_The other one, in front of her, poised to strike-_

There was cold water all over her legs, the dropped pot was rolling on the floor, and he was hovering over her, reaching down with hands that would pin her to the floor, cover her mouth to keep anyone from hearing her scream, would wrench at her shoulders when she fought to get away, to get free. She was taller but he was bigger, filling her entire field of view, which had narrowed down to a blurry point. She didn’t hear him when his lips moved because she was crying out from years ago, throwing her arms up to ward off the blow she knew to be coming, her heart slamming in her chest as a thick wave of nausea swamped her, sending crests of panic crashing over her shaking body.

His hand clamped down on her wrist.

Anna bolted into the room just in time to see Elsa scramble to her feet and run out of the kitchen, her father standing staggered and stunned, one hand still outstretched. “Elsa, wait!” she cried, darting forward, but Elsa was past her, flying up the stairs and around the corner. Anna was halfway up by the time she heard the door slam but she didn’t stop until she was outside her door. On the other side there came the sound of Elsa’s breaths, loud, fast and violent, the end tainted with a thin, sharp whine of terror.

She knocked once, a light tap, and flinched when the panting on the other side stopped immediately. “Elsa are you okay?”

No answer. The silence contrasted sharply with her parents’ heated whispers from below.

“Elsa, _please_ talk to me.”

She didn’t, and Anna held her own breath, hoping that she would say something in time. And hopefully not what Anna feared she might say, but knew she would, anyways.

“Elsa, I’m right here,” she said, keeping her voice soft and low. The sound of Elsa’s breathing returned, albeit in broken gasps. “It’s gonna be okay, just…just listen to me. No one’s going to hurt you, nothing is going to happen, you’ll be fine.” She stroked the wood in lieu of touching her as Elsa fought to control her breath, the bed creaking, Anna imagining Elsa curled up within herself and shaking. She shut her eyes tight and willed the sight out of her mind. “I know you’re scared, but-”

“I’m sorry,” Elsa sobbed, and Anna wilted, laying her head against the door. “I’m sorry I can’t…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to run…I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she whispered to the wood, her lips brushing against it as she spoke. She’d told her as much before, whenever Elsa retreated to pull her fear and pain inside of her, mentally and physically, to shield Anna from it, but Elsa had never listened to her before, just continued to believe the lies she had always been told, the lies she told herself, and it made a piece inside of Anna’s chest taut with worry. Every time after it passed Elsa would reassure her that no, she was fine, and she was sorry to be a burden, no, she didn’t need to see anyone, she just needed to toughen up and stop being a sissy.

On Elsa’s lips the word “sissy” sounded like “faggot”.

A long moment passed before she waited to say it. “May I come in?”

Elsa’s breathing halted, held in place, then she heard a slow exhale signifying Elsa readying herself.

“…please.” Her plaintive whisper was barely audible.

She was turning the doorknob before Elsa was done speaking and striding quickly into the room. Elsa sat hunched on the bed with her long arms wrapped around her body, her upper body bent of her knees, her eyes squeezed shut and head bowed, her body wracked with shivers. Anna sat down beside her and Elsa leaned into her side, her face still turned away. A tear trembled on her chin and fell.

“I’m sorry.” She wouldn’t look at her. “I didn’t mean to…I know I shouldn’t run away, I just…it just really hit me, and I needed…” She took a few noisy breaths as Anna wrapped her arm around her waist, one hand on her knee. “I just needed some space all of a sudden.”

“What happened?”

Elsa lifted her head, staring at the closet. “I don’t…” She paused, her stinging eyes searching the empty air. It hadn’t even been five minutes but still she struggled to dredge up the memory of what had happened. Already the older memory had sunk back into the crevices of her mind, leaving her at a loss for words, but the fear remained, the fear that shot through her, wrapped around her heart and sent it into a wild panic that stripped her of all higher thought and burdened her with the need to run, to hide, to get away at all costs, because if they saw her they’d know, they’d see who she really was, what she really was, and their hatred and scorn and disgust would take physical form in the shape of fists and knives and worst of all words that fell out of her mouth because they were right. And she ran, she always did, because at heart she was a coward who could never be a man.

She swiped at her eye, brushing a tear away. Anna was right; she wasn’t in any real danger and her father was not an enemy. That didn’t stop her pulse from raging, and she knew from experience that it would keep racing whether she wished it to or not. But she was talking, so it wasn’t _that_ bad. The bad times were when she locked herself in and felt like her mind was coming apart, taking her sense of self and all the light from the world with it, leaving behind a shell that waited for the end. The bad times were when Anna was right there but she couldn’t call out to her, couldn’t beg her for help because she mustn’t know, mustn’t see her like this. She didn’t deserve that.

And how could she help her anyways?

She closed her eyes and forced the air through her nose, clenching her jaw until her breath hurt more but came slower. “The man was…your dad, I mean, he…um, he had a switchblade…”

A tremor ran through her body when Anna flinched. “Oh…shit. I forgot he carries one.” She slid a hand over her eyes, grimacing. “I should’ve told him not to use it. Fuck I…I’m sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who-”

The arm around her tightened, Anna’s words burdened with anger, addressed to her but not directed at her. It still felt intensely powerful, enough to make her shudder. “ _No._ No, Elsa just…stop blaming yourself, okay? It’s not your fault, it was me who forgot to…” She swore again, her grip tightening until it was almost painful, but she let go when Elsa gasped, her hand slipping away to fall on her lap, clutching her jeans. “…I just wanted this to be a safe space for you, and I screwed that up. I’m sorry. You deserve better than that, and I…” Elsa looked up when she stopped talking.

Leah stood in the doorway, fiddling with the hem of her shirt, her eyes much darker than her sister’s but just as concerned, searching Elsa’s face. Her shoulders were only a few inches about the doorknob. “Hey,” she said. “Are you okay?”

Elsa smiled weakly at her, clutching her knees so that she wouldn’t see how her hands were shaking. “Hey.” She couldn’t hold it; her smile fell away from her face. She looked down at her lap, her eyes sliding shut in her shame. “I’m sorry about…” Behind her eyelids came the flash of the knife and she shot up, inhaling sharply.

“You’ve got water on your skirt,” the girl pointed out. “Were you going to change?”

“What...oh, yeah, I’ll have to change into something else. That’s, um, that’s why I…” She trailed off as Leah came forward, moving around the side of the bed and hopping onto it, sliding her legs around Elsa’s hips.

“Wha-?” She held still as the girl looped her arms around her waist and pulled herself snug against her. She could feel the girl’s heat through her T-shirt and knew that Leah would feel her heaving breaths, the minute trembling that crawled across her skin. Again she forced a calm over herself, her pulse jackhammering in angry defiance.

“Leah, what are you doing?”

Leah’s voice was muffled against the middle of Elsa’s back. “‘Mputting you in a hug-chair.” Her legs dangled over the edge of the bed, her ankles a little past Elsa’s knees.

It felt weird to laugh now, but not in a bad way. It was like a breath of fresh air after being locked inside a room for too long. “…a what?” she asked, confused.

Beside her, Anna tucked a stray hair behind her ear, giving her a sheepish look. “Ah, that’s…that’s something I made up.” She spread her hands in an explanatory gesture. “Um, see, she used to be scared of thunder-”

Leah’s breath tickled her spine. “I only pretended to be. Also I was really little. Like _really_ little.”

“…and she’d come to me in the middle of the night because I told her I knew where to put her where she’d always be safe which was…” Anna shrugged. “A chair made out of hugs. For when you’re feeling scared.”

A part of her heart melted, the fear trickling out the hole. “Oh wow, that’s…that’s really sweet,” Elsa said, touched. “Thanks, Leah.” She patted the girl’s hand and chuckled when Leah turned her head so her nose wasn’t digging into her anymore. “I wish I had a sister like you.”

“Everybody wishes they had a sister like me,” Leah said, “but only Anna’s lucky enough for that.”

“I’m very lucky in a lot of ways,” Anna said quietly, slipping her hand into Elsa’s, her fingers soft and comforting, covering and infusing Elsa’s hand with their warmth.

Both of them tensed at the knock, Elsa clutching her hand harder. Anna pressed herself into her side and it felt like the pair of them were holding her together.

Bernard paused in the doorway, looking her over. Without the laugh lines and jovial smile he just looked old. She recognized the look, but the man who usually wore it looked very different. He took a deep breath, a hand on the back of his neck. “Hey. Can we talk?” He spread his other hand, showing that it was empty. “It’s okay, I left it downstairs.”

Elsa gulped and stared at her toes. “I’m sorry,” she said, the apology straining her voice until it trembled. She tried to ignore Anna’s sigh. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene. I’m sorry for being so rude, and I’m really grateful you’d have me over, I am, I just…”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, examining her. She cringed away from his eyes; scrutiny was not something she had ever endured well. When she chanced to look up again his eyes had softened into the same expression he’d had on the moment Anna stepped off the train, but there was a distance to it that was beyond the physical space between them, as though he was hesitant in an uncharacteristic way.

“You’ve been hurt before,” he said, like a doctor tallying up symptoms and naming the sickness. “Did they use a knife like mine?”

“Yes, but…I got away. I didn’t even get hurt. It was just a scare, and…” She swallowed, her ears throbbing and probably completely red at this point. In her chest her heart thudded, winding down from its insane gallop from before. Now it just felt heavy, making her breath laborious. “It was a long time ago, and I…I…should have gotten over it by now.”

“I’m sorry,” she added. It was more a state of mind than an apology.

“That’s weird,” he said, “I thought that was my line.”

She looked up at him, confused. “But…I’m the one who freaked out. I…I ruined what should have been a fun dinner because I’m…” She covered her mouth, looking away again. “I just wanted to do something for you,” she whispered, her hand growing slack, “but I ruined it, and…I’m sorry.”

“May I?” She nodded and he sat down on the bed next to her, throwing her a look as he thought, lips pursed and brow furrowed. It seemed almost inappropriately comical; her father’s face always became impassive and inscrutable when he mulled over her errors.

He nudged her with his knee. “Hey. Can I tell you a story? I think it’d help.”

She stared at him. There had been times when she had been sent to her room following an outburst, or something wrong that she’d done, and neither of her parents had said a word to her until the next morning. She remembered one time where she…where Elton, as a little boy, had mentioned seeing a lovely dress on a lady in the park, his father growing quiet, his lips thin as his mother told him that that wasn’t something boys should be looking at at his age, but had he noticed the boys playing Frisbee? Why hadn’t he joined them? Elton had said he had been too scared to approach them, and his father had told him, his voice cool and calm, that he should not be afraid, as though that was enough, and he had eaten dinner without saying anything else that night.

The idea that Bernard wanted to hold her hand through her bout of sissiness was totally alien to her. She nodded, tentative, but curious.

He sighed as he settled back onto his hands, gaze going to the ceiling as he began. “A couple of years ago I was working out at a gym with a guy I knew from the Army. We were both off active duty at this point, and for good, too, but we still liked to train together. Boxing. The kind with gloves. Every Wednesday and Saturday we’d have a sparring session. Everyone said we were just the funniest looking pair, because, well, you know me,” he said, gesturing at himself, “I’m barely 5’ 7” and this guy’s about six and a half feet tall and just…” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Biceps as big as my head, doesn’t skip leg day, looks like he would eat nails for breakfast if only the grocery store carried them, the whole nine yards. When he steps in the ring he just whales on me, and I mean…” He whistled. “ _Whales_.”

“I remember that,” Anna muttered. “Mom thought it was terrible how you’d always come back with a black eye.”

“And a smile,” her father retorted, offering his own as proof. Elsa hadn’t noticed until now that he had a chip missing from one of his incisors.

“So one day, he’s beating the crap out of me, as usual, I’m doing everything I can to just stay alive, and all of a sudden-” Bernard spread his hands, looking down at an imaginary opponent. “ _Boom_. He’s on the ground. I don’t even know what happened at first, I guess I got in a lucky punch or something, because next thing I know there’s blood all over his face and he’s just…shaking.”

Elsa inhaled slowly, pushing against pinpricks of pain and smiled when Leah responded by rubbing her cheek against her back. Her hands usually felt cold afterward but now her body fairly thrummed with the combined heat and the buzzing in her hands lessened.

“My first thought, of course, was ‘oh shit, I hope I didn’t break his nose so badly I killed him’, which would be really impressive with the gloves and size difference, but no. He was crying. I’d given him a bloody nose, and he started crying.”

_“Boys don’t cry, Elton.”_

Bernard’s eyes grew distant in a way that, paradoxically, made her feel closer. His voice had softened into a quieter register, as if the words themselves were weighed down with power and to add volume would just cheapen them.

“He wasn’t in my unit, and we didn’t talk much outside the ring, so I didn’t know why he got sent home. But for the first time, that day, he told me why.” He stopped, biting his lip, and she almost laughed, which would have been terribly out of turn. Instead she waited. The words would come to him, only if she let them do so. Her breath had slowed down to a soft rhythm, enough so that his words were clearer without the rush of air in her ears, and she realized then that that had been his intention.

“Turns out he’d been invalidated after a tour in Iraq because of tinnitus. Tiny little thing, right?”

She searched his face for a clue, Anna’s breath tickling her neck as the girl leaned against her shoulder. “I…I don’t know.” It couldn’t be, not if he were telling her about it.

He looked like a different person, with grimness etched into his features. “That wasn’t the problem. The problem was how he got it. He got it from an IED going off under his Jeep during a patrol. I’ll…I’ll spare you the details but…his best friend was in the seat next to him, and he died. God, _right next_ to him.” He dragged a hand through the short hairs on his head, his wedding ring glinting on his thick fingers. She watched the pain spread over his face, almost in awe, her lips parted but motionless, transfixed by the sight of the naked emotion.

“And what sent him back to that day was the smell of blood. He couldn’t handle the smell of blood anymore because it put him back there. He’s the strongest, manliest man I ever met, head and shoulders bigger than me, toughest guy on the block…and he started crying because of a _nosebleed_.”

“And you know what?” he said. “That’s okay.”

“What?” she gasped, unable to stop herself. He’d just told her about a man who had failed in every measure of manhood, who had _cried_ , and he thought that was okay?

“It is.” His firm conviction was only heightened by the compassion in his eyes, and she could not look away. “Elsa,” he said, patting her hand, “it’s okay to be scared. It doesn’t matter how big you are, how ‘manly’, how old or how brave. The point I’m trying to make is…” He sighed, his broad shoulders slumping. “PTSD doesn’t care.” He was quiet for a moment, his broad palm rough against the back of her hand. “It’ll screw you six ways from Wednesday whether you got it from war or…or something else. And it doesn’t make you a smaller or weaker person if you have it. It just means you have a burden that a lot of people won’t understand. So what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry.” He rubbed her back, a strained smile relaxing into a real one that lit his face up when she returned the favor, albeit to a smaller degree. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“You didn’t mean it,” she whispered.

“No, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t hurt all the same. Can you forgive me?” he asked, and it was that question that made her relax fully, her worry fading away.

“Of course, I couldn’t blame-” Anna poked her side. “Ow…yeah, I…I forgive you. Um. Thanks.”

“Well that’s good, because I really liked what you did with the family dinner and I like you, too. I’m honored you want to see more of our crazy fam-” His hand stopped rubbing and he peered around her back. “Oh ho, what is this?”

“It’s a hug-chair, duh,” Leah said matter-of-factly, as though this was something that everyone knew.

Her father’s amusement colored his laughter. “I think she’s the big spoon to your little spoon, sweetie. You look a little silly.”

“So does Elsa; she needs a new skirt.”

Elsa squirmed at Leah’s breath on her back. “Leah, that’s really ticklish actually…”

“Would this do?” Irene asked from the doorway, holding up a long dress. It had sleeves that ended at the elbow, but the bottom came to Irene’s ankles, which meant it’d cover Elsa’s shins. “I don’t think anything from Anna’s closet would fit you. Especially since we’ve only got the stuff she left behind, things that wouldn’t fit or she didn’t like anymore, that sort of thing. Oh and the butch phase.”

“The butch phase?” Elsa asked, turning to offer Anna a raised eyebrow; Anna, whose face was taking on the color of her hair as she fiddled with the end of one of her pigtails without answering, a sure sign that this was worth waiting for.

Bernard was snickering. “Back when she was new to the whole lesbian thing she thought that since she was lesbian she had to be butch. It uh…it wasn’t a good look. Sorry honey, but it wasn’t.”

“…and you let her wear it?” The thought was simultaneously preposterous and yet, at the same time, fit perfectly.

He shrugged. “Sure. Didn’t matter if I didn’t like it, what mattered was if she liked it. Which she totally didn’t,” he added, smiling at his older daughter, whose freckles had disappeared in the wake of her blush, her lower lip pouting as she glared at her father.

“She wore a _lot_ of overalls,” Leah said, her words accompanied by a snide little chuckle. “She looked like Pippi Longstocking.”

Elsa started giggling when Anna hmmmph’d and crossed her arms, her shoulders hunched, looking like a grouchy turtle. A redheaded turtle. “That actually sounds really adorable.”

Leah groaned and pulled away. “Ugh, she really does have a thing for redheads, that’s so gross.” She poked her head out from behind Elsa’s back with a smirk written across her face. “Too bad she gets it from a bottle.”

“No she doesn’t,” Elsa corrected automatically, flushing brilliantly a second later when her brain caught up to her tongue. Bernard’s laughter filled the air as she covered her face with her hands. She was never going to speak again.

“Oh wow,” Bernard gasped between guffaws, “you walked right into that one.”

“Walked right into what?” Leah squinted at him. “Oh come on,” she whined, “into what?”

“Um, dinnertime?” Irene asked, glancing nervously at her younger daughter. “Now, please?” 

* * *

 

They were sitting out by the pool, the lights hanging from long poles dropping circles of color in the surrounding darkness, the faintest hint of sunset tinging the horizon purple in place of black. Anna and her sister were curled up together in a better demonstration of a hug-chair on one of the lawn chairs, Leah sitting in Anna’s lap, showing off the team she’d been working on for…Topaz, or some other gem name, she couldn’t remember. Anna kept sneaking glances at Elsa and Bernard as they sat on a pair of pool chairs a few yards away, Elsa upright and with her legs crossed, Bernard lying stretched out, nursing a martini in a small, round glass.

Though dinner had been awkward at times, Elsa still smarting from the shame of leaving, none of them had put up with any more of her attempts at saying sorry, and she’d eventually given up. For once, she had been totally uninterested in the food, although she had been sure to try at least one piece of everyone’s roll. Leah’s had contained salmon, cream cheese and an absurd amount of buffalo sauce, having knocked the bottle over earlier, and when Elsa had come up for air after suppressing her gag reflex long enough to swallow it, she had been faced with Irene and Anna wearing identical expressions of concern, right down to the number of forehead wrinkles, while Bernard wordlessly offered her a water pitcher. Leah had been pleased to hear that it was better than her sister’s first attempt, which had involved more fire than was necessarily called for.

Bernard was swirling his drink around in his glass. The smell of the chlorine mixed with the taste of alcohol in a way that was not unpleasant, even homey, which was strange since her parent’s house didn’t have a pool. Or maybe not that strange; she’d always liked swimming.

“So what did you want to ask me about?”

Leah was talking about evolution and types, Anna making comments here and there that probably made sense, her eyes flicking up every so often.

“What you were saying earlier, about your friend…” Elsa took a deep breath. Though she wanted to know, at the same time there was that hesitation, that fear that the answer would hurt. She folded her arms over her chest, feeling cold. “What happened to him?”

“We still work out,” he said, scratching his arm, “I just don’t go for the face anymore, so I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of beating him. Then we go out to some burger joint and I lie and tell my wife that I’d be fine with salad for dinner, my doctor chews me out for my cholesterol levels and I go to bed happy.”

“Why did you say it was okay for him to cry?”

“Because it is,” he said instantly. “He could be a man and still cry.” He tilted his head, watching her as she drew an invisible pattern over the tiles with one toe. “Did you think that wasn’t possible?”

“I guess…” She watched the pair of sisters, Leah’s face lit up by the screen but only the bottom of Anna’s chin similarly colored. “I always thought that what it meant to be a man was to always be on your feet, to never show weakness. To conceal your fear, pain, and everything else so you could be the one that others relied on, because you were the one that everyone looked to, and you couldn’t fail them.”

He shook his head so viciously that she was startled to see his face twisted into a stern frown. “No. Absolutely not.” His eyes were stormy, the blue overtaking the green in his anger. “That is _not_ masculinity. I call it for what it is: toxic machismo, and they are not the same thing.” He inhaled sharply and let it out, shaking his head again, lips turned down in disgust. “So fucking toxic.” He tipped the glass into his mouth, swallowing, eyes still distant and hard. “That’s exactly the sort of thing that turns good men who would have grown up just fine into broken people because they’re taught, they’re _taught_ to bury everything inside, like that helps things at all.”

“You know how long it took me to figure out the difference between bullshit and masculinity?” he mused, looking down into his glass.

She shook her head.

“Twenty seven years. That’s how long it took me to admit to someone else, someone that depended on me, that I was scared out of my mind and had no idea what to do. That’s how ingrained it is. So if you figured out you didn’t want to put up with that bullshit in your teens then…” He snorted gruffly, his lips drawn into a sour expression. “You’re already doing a lot better than me,” he said, and knocked back another swig.

“It wasn’t…it wasn’t that.” She was twining a strand of grass around her fingers. “It just felt like every other boy got some sort of manual on how to be a man and I was just…drifting. Copying what other people did because I thought that if I did it long enough it’d…it’d stick, right?”

“Fake it ‘til you make it works with confidence because you build it up as you get better. You know better than me how that works with gender, though.”

“It doesn’t,” she mumbled. Or at least not with her, no matter how hard she’d tried. Unfortunately that argument hadn’t convinced her parents: if only she’d tried harder, maybe she wouldn’t have done this to herself.

“If… if that’s not what it means to be a man,” she said, hesitantly, “then what is?”

He chewed on one of the olives, staring out into the night. The crickets chirped from across the lawn, and if she looked closely there was the telltale flash of fireflies zipping around in the dark. She used to sit on the back porch and watch them with her father and they’d tried to count how many there were, always coming up with different answers.

He shifted in his chair. “To me, what it means to be a man, or,” he said, glancing at his daughters, “to be an adult, is to know who and where you are. And if you’re on your knees then you don’t lie to yourself and others about how you’re perfectly fine. You ask for help if you need it because if you _stay_ down there, you’re just doing damage to yourself and the people who care about you. The people who don’t care about you are going to give you shit anyways, so you may as well do what you can to get better. If that means leaning on someone else so what? That’s what your loved ones are there for. No one stands alone.”

“Oh,” she whispered, looking down at her lap. She remembered so many moments, so many flashes of memories old and new, times when she had done or said something that had made her father wince because it was “girly”, or “childish” if he was being generous, things that he said would paint a target on her back so toughen up, Elton. Be a man.

“My father always stood alone.” Even in her memory he was always alone, a tall, imposing man whose figure cut a stiff figure against the darkness.

“Really?” Bernard said, squinting at her in the dim light. “And why is that?”

“Because he was a man and that’s what men did.” It sounded absurd when spoken aloud, but there it was.

She swallowed. “And I wasn’t, or I couldn’t be, because I could never manage to do what he did. I always did it wrong.” Even when she did exactly what he did, somehow, _somehow_ , he always knew that she was doing it wrong because he was there to correct her at every turn. Sometimes he did it with a smile on his face, as though this was their little game, but as the years passed and she had struggled to even hold herself like a real man, something in his eyes had faded.

“Hmmm.” He plucked an olive from his drink, eyed it, and tossed it into the bushes. “So he always did things right and you always did things wrong. According to his standards.”

“Yes,” she said.

“And that makes him stronger than you.”

“Yes.”

“That seems off to me.”

She frowned. “Why is that?”

He took a sip and returned the drink to his cupholder, fixing her with his gaze. “Has he ever lived in fear, the way you have?”

She didn’t speak. The thought had never occurred to her before, but she supposed it made sense that a soldier would ask that question.

“Anna tells me how you’ve lived with the fear, the very real fear, of being hurt, of being _killed_ , for no other reason than someone decides that their violence is an acceptable response to your mere presence. And you’ve done that for _years_. Tell me, has your dad ever had to put up with something like that?”

She opened her mouth to answer but found she had nothing to give him. Closing her mouth, she shook her head.

“Then I think it’s fair to say that you’re the stronger one.”

“Hey.” They looked up together. Leah was leaning against her older sister, rubbing her cheek and blinking tiredly. “I’m gonna put her to bed, are you guys coming in soon?” Anna asked, looking to Elsa for an answer.

“Yeah, just a little longer,” Elsa responded. “You go to bed.”

“No, we’re going to infinity, and beyond,” Leah mumbled. Anna rolled her eyes and pushed her gently towards the door. “Oh shut up.”

Bernard and Elsa shared a smile between them as Anna pulled open the sliding door and led her sister inside, Leah claiming she wasn’t tired. Anna wasn’t having a word of it.

The silence that fell between them wasn’t strained with the weight of questions to be asked anymore, just quiet companionship as Elsa contemplated their past conversation.

She sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Even if I wanted to be less of a-well, people don’t really change at heart.”

“No,” he said, rubbing his chin, “they do.” He leaned back into his seat, the chair creaking. “They do. It just takes a couple of good whacks here-“ he thumped his chest with his palm “–to get them to realize they still can change up here.” He tapped his skull with his knuckles. “You live long enough, you become set in your ways, and it takes a hell of a wakeup call to change but…you can. You always can.”

“I mean, look at me,” he said, spreading his hands wide. “Turning forty for the fifth time, and I’m still learning how not to be a complete asshole to the people around me.” He shot her a snarky grin.

Anna poked her head out the door. “Mom says you loaded the dishwasher wrong and she’s gonna divorce you.”

“If your mother wanted to marry someone who could load a dishwasher _she should’ve_ _married that geeky Tetris champion she had a crush on in college!_ ” Bernard shouted through the open door. Anna sniffed and pulled her head back inside, shutting the door.

Elsa raised an eyebrow at him, her lips curling upward. “Still learning, huh?”

He shook his head. “The learning curve is _so_ steep,” he said, and got up, draining the rest of his martini.


End file.
